


The Reunion

by LosingInterest



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Disbandment, GRi - Freeform, M/M, Nyongtory, complicated canon, just complicated, post-bigbang, shifting povs, shifting timelines, switching POVs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 44,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10760049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LosingInterest/pseuds/LosingInterest
Summary: Four years after the disbandment of Bigbang and the maknae –Seungri always, will always think of him as a maknae –spends another night of dreaming about their old days and wondering if his hyung ever think about him like he always does about the older man.Seungri wonders if there’s part of Kwon Jiyong that still wishes for Seungri; that still loves Seungri.





	1. Of Ending and A Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> posted on AFF before under the username daengel

It was an ordinary day, as Seungri takes another shot from his glass, getting drunk and slurred over words. Another night, another one night stand. The red haired noona, his company for this night, had gone an hour ago, already waiting for her money to be transferred. Seungri, head is spinning and stomach clenching, he is staring at the photo hanging on his wall, plastered for eternity at the back of his mind.

Four years after Bigbang got disbanded and the maknae –Seungri _always_ , will always think of him as a maknae –spends another night of dreaming about their old days and wondering if his hyung –his _favorite_ hyung –ever think about him like he always does about the older man.

Seungri wonders if there’s part of Kwon Jiyong that still wishes for Seungri; that still _loves_ Seungri.

***

"G-Dragon will be the guest for next week," the sad voice of his manager telling him he is worried. "What do you think?"

Seungri chuckles. "I'm a pro," he lightly says. _He is_. He owns a broadcasting company, he has contracts as MCs and actors, he has packed schedules of meetings for businesses he runs.

"I know. Good luck VI."

Seungri says _arigatou gozaimasu_ then hangs up.

Sometimes he thinks it’s funny, that he is no longer Seungri but VI, that he is no longer living in Korea but Japan, that his fans no longer demand him to sing but _speak_ , that he was nominated for the best MC last year; that G-Dragon is still G-Dragon, that G-Dragon is still a talented song writer, that G-Dragon is still YG's child, that G-Dragon is still remained as the same, and Seungri, VI, is the one whose heart still broken whenever Lies played on the radio.

Seungri, VI, is the one who can't move on even when he is _no longer_ little Seunghyun.

***

Daesung visits him often because he has most of his activities in Japan, let alone his solo concerts. Seungri gets the invitation for his Dome Tour in November this morning, the tickets were wrapped up neatly in a yellow envelope with _Lee Seunghyun_ written in _hangul_ and Daesung’s cute little drawing of D-kun beside it.

Seungri had called him to say thank you and was surprised that it was Seunghyun who picked up the phone instead of Daesung.

“Yah, Maknae!”

“Hyung?”

“You’re going right? Next week?” Seunghyun sounded excited that Seungri couldn’t help but laughing. Two years in military didn’t affect Seunghyun’s childish side; seemed like four years of disbandment and lots of successful movies, albums, and art exhibitions also couldn’t. “Daesung will kill you if you don’t show up in his concert like last year.”

Seungri heard a familiar laughter, Daesung must be beside Seunghyun. He’s thankful that after all, their friendship seems to remain the same.

“I’ll look at my schedule first, hyung.”

“It’s my birthday, come up or else I’ll nag you forever.”

Seungri laughed, the thought of Seunghyun nagging him every here and there wasn’t new. “Anyway, I don’t know you’re in Japan.”

“Only for three days though, I’ll return to Seoul tomorrow night.”

“Work?”

“I need to see some paintings for the auction next month,” Seunghyun sighed.

“Ah, I’ve heard about that, good luck, hyung.”

“You too, and congratulations for your award for…what was that? MC something?”

Seunghyun wasn’t a big fan of award shows and Seungri had gotten used to it. It was probably Daesung or his manager informed him about it. Still, Seungri felt a lump formed in his throat.

“Thanks, hyung.”

“Shall we celebrate it? Next week after the concert?”

“It’s Daesung-hyung’s concert, not _yours_.”

“Daesung-ie won’t mind,” Seunghyun said matter of factly. “I’ll arrange something.”

Seungri rolled his eyes. Trusting Seunghyun to hold a party? Never. But Seungri didn’t have heart to ruin his hyung’s mood, or even more, their soon-to-be reunion. “Sure.”

“Great! I’ll call Youngbae and Jiyong.”

Seungri’s stomach sunk and before he could say anything, Seunghyun’s voice was already replaced by one beep, then silence.

***

Seungri didn’t know –still doesn’t know –when did he fall in love with Jiyong. The leader was sure wasn’t the softest; he rejected him, he didn’t look at him, he pretended that Seungri didn’t exist. Probably it wasn’t that time, Seungri is sure that it wasn’t in the pre-debut days. Seungri is _sure_ he didn’t fall for Jiyong’s cold stare.

Maybe it was after the debut, when Seungri saw him standing in front of BIGBANG poster. Jiyong didn’t see him, he was lost in his own thoughts. Just when Seungri thought of going back quietly so he wouldn’t interrupt his leader, he heard his name being said.

“Thank you, Seungri.”

It wasn’t really his name, but Jiyong didn’t say anything to him most of times, so it’s surprised him –shocked him, to be honest.

“I didn’t do anything, hyung,” Seungri wasn’t sure of what to say or if he had to say anything in return. Jiyong wrote the songs, Jiyong composed the melody, Jiyong was the producer, Jiyong was the _leader_. Thank you sounded so wrong and cheap to be said to him.

“You’re here,” Jiyong wasn’t looking at him, he was pointing out at Seungri’s face in the poster. “You fought to be _here_.”

_Maybe_ , that night, Seungri fell in love with Kwon Jiyong.

***

_Seunghyun-hyung is throwing you a party?_

Seungri smiles. His phone beeps again.

_Seriously? Seunghyun-hyung?_

It’s eleven pm and Wednesday night, Seungri suspects that Hyorin is taking the twins out so Youngbae can have a little time for himself. He’s been busy being a singer and having concerts like Daesung but instead of Japan, Youngbae has been focusing in having carreer in the US.

_It’s his idea, not mine, hyung._

It takes two minutes for Youngbae to reply, not with message but a phone call.

“It means you’ll go? To Daesung’s concert?”

“Seems like so,” Seungri shrugs although he knows Youngbae can’t see it. “Besides, it’s Seunghyun-hyung’s birthday.”

Youngbae laughs and Seungri misses his eye-smiles. He misses Youngbae’s constant nag, the mischievous side of him, the persistent jokes he often pulled out at Seungri, the worried look in his eyes, the pats on his back; Seungri misses many things about Youngbae. It’s been three years since he got married to his long-time girlfriend, a year since the last time Seungri met him in person.

They talked through messages and SNS, mostly Youngbae throwing comments at Seungri’s posts. Last month, Youngbae’s twins had a birthday and Seungri had sent a greeting happy-birthday video through Instagram that gained him more than 70.000 likes in 2 minutes. Youngbae called him right away, he even let Seungri did baby-talk with his daughters.

“I’m not sure if I’ll make it to the concert, but I’ll be in the party.”

“Busy schedules?”

“Yeah,” Youngbae yawns and it’s contagious, even across the phone call. “Hyorin needs to go for filming next week, so I need to take care of the twins until she’s done with it.”

Seungri hums. “It’s late, rest, hyung, you sounds like an old man.”

“I’m old,” Youngbae snickers. “But Jiyong is even older! He snapped at everyone and his latest hairstyle is white, have you seen him?”

Seungri has seen him, in the poster, in the newspaper, all over the internet, in almost everyone’s post in his timeline.

_KWON JIYONG, KNOWN AS G-DRAGON, IS COMING BACK WITH A SOLO ALBUM AFTER FOUR YEARS ON HIATUS DUE TO DISBANDMENT OF BIGBANG._

“Ah,” Youngbae’s voice is softer, calmer, tender, and Seungri wishes he doesn’t have to be like that; like he’s sorry for throwing the topic. “It’s late, right, talk to you soon, Seungri.”

“’Kay, night, hyung.”

 ***


	2. Sushi Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between Seunghyun, sushi, and things that are broken.

After all this time, Seungri’s ringtone is still Last Dance. It’s a sad song and Seungri admits he had hard times during the recording due to the overwhelmed feelings, but it turned out beautiful, one song that Seungri still often unconsciously sings even though it brings him back to the hot and cold feelings of being a part of BIGBANG.

It was released before Seunghyun went to the service, as a part of their 3rd full album, MADE. It had taken them over 3 years for preparation, tangled with the promotion, tours and concerts. Seungri wasn’t sure of how it was back then, but as Daesung said, they _made_ it in the end, at least. It wasn’t easy but it was worth it. Seungri can still vividly remembers the tears in VIPs eyes as they sang the song. Sometimes, when there’s no one around, sitting on the leather sofa he owns, he would _dance_ by himself, listening to the song and the deafening chant from the fans that’s trapped in the memories inside his head and heart all over again until the morning comes.

Sometimes, when it’s too much, Seungri would pretend that he was _never_ a part of it, of that song, of BIGBANG, of Jiyong, because it hurts; a lot.

***

“Have you seen this?”

Seungri glances sideways to see his manager grinning from ear to ear, his eyes shines with pure happiness that sets Seungri into a good mood.

“What is it, hyung?”

There, in the newspaper, first page, Daesung’s recent photo along with “D-LITE’S 3RD DOME TOUR TICKETS SOLD OUT IN 2 MINUTES”. Seungri feels the same excitement tugs in his heart, he’s proud. More than proud actually, because Daesung deserves it, after everything he had done, for not nagging anyone, for not drowning himself in the parting, for coming and helping Seungri picked up himself even though Seungri knew that Daesung was also shattered, also scared.

“I received the ticket this morning,” the manager continues. “Will you go?”

If Seungri wasn’t sure about it, he is now. “Of course!”

“Great! I can’t wait to see him again.”

Seungri feels bad. They couldn’t make it to the concert last year, which was Daesung’s second Dome Tour, the first after the disbandment. Seungri was still busy picking up himself, offering and accepting contracts and agreement here and there, and he had to drag his manager with him. It wasn’t new, his manager was once BIGBANG’s, to Seungri’s luck. He had always thought that the manager would want to do something with Jiyong or Youngbae or Seunghyun or Daesung but never him. That the older male opted to _ask_ Seungri if he needed someone to help the schedules management surprised him; and that he agreed even after Seungri told him that they had to move to Japan shocked him.

Seungri was beyond thankful; he still is, every day.

***

To any outsiders, it would look like Seungri who was supposed to be the first one to move on; to get over BIGBANG. Known as star DJ, owned lots of buildings, getting praised as businessman –who knows waffles would be a hit? –had made people expected Seungri to be the first one to come out, after all the fuss and cries from both media and their fans.

Turned out it was Daesung, though, who had made announcement about his next solo album, first Korean one, along with the list of cities and schedules for his upcoming tour. Daesung had always been the matured one, despite that it was Seungri who wore suit and pointing shoes the most. Seungri couldn’t meet his eyes when Daesung visited him one afternoon.

“I won’t miss BIGBANG,” Daesung shrugged. “Because they will always be in my heart no matter what.”

Seungri didn’t mean to, but he snickered; Daesung always had a thing about being cheesy.

“I know you’ll probably won’t go, but you’re invited, _Seunghyun_.”

The air was thick with _petrichor_ , and Seungri’s heart was thick with guilt.

“It’s not that I –”

“You’re always hard on yourself,” Daesung sighed, there’s a line of sadness visible in his feature. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

“I don’t even know what to say to myself,” Seungri admitted and his stomach hurt. “It was our choice, our decision.”

“It doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t get sad about it.”

“I shouldn’t,” Seungri whispered.

“Is it about Jiyong-hyung?” Daesung’s voice was so soft that it hit Seungri.

“I don’t know, hyung,” Seungri let himself being pulled into a hug. “I really don’t know.”

There, in the patio of his luxurious house-villa, miles away from Seoul and Jiyong, Seungri broke down crying.

***

“Oi.”

Seungri blinks, twice. “Am I dreaming or _you_ are really standing there in my kitchen?”

“Do I usually appear in your dream?”

“If you mean nightmare, then yes.”

“Yah!”

Seungri bends his back quick enough before a spoon hit him. “Isn’t this my kitchen, hyung?”

“It is,” Seunghyun nods, his hair is –Seungri notices –black this time. He likes it that way, but he won’t tell Seunghyun that since the older male will surely turn it into a game. Seungri had had enough of his _You Like_ jokes back then; he won’t be getting out calm and nice if Seunghyun dares to ask him that two words question anymore. “Thought you’d be hungry.”

“Starving,” Seungri laughs.

***

There are times when it’s easy to pretend that he is still _Seungri_. Especially when Daesung is around; Seungri is thankful that both of them often have time to meet during busy schedules. Or when Youngbae calls him even when it’s mostly to scold Seungri for his newest scandals. Or when Seunghyun comes to see him, for a sushi night, like tonight.

“Are you going to start a sushi business something soon?” Seunghyun is feeding himself, eyes sparkling as three years old he always is. “It will be great.”

“I don’t think so,” Seungri snatches a piece of sushi from his hyung’s plate, mostly to annoy the older male. As expected, Seunghyun glares at him but Seungri had known him for so long to be intimidated. “I still have trauma after your comment for Aori Ramen.”

Seunghyun laughs and Seungri forgets that he is now not 27 anymore, that it is not December, that there won’t be Seunghyun shouting _Happy Birthday, Bro_ every thirty second.

Seungri forgets that time has changed and most of things had too; for the better and worse.

“I think he is talking to you.”

“Huh?”

Seunghyun points to the man standing beside their table and Seungri frowns at him.

“What?”

Seunghyun quirks an eyebrow. “VI, are you okay?”

Seungri remembers that this is October, that he got an invitation for Halloween party, that tomorrow he has a meeting, that Seunghyun is in front of him, looking as good as always, eating sushi and now speaking _Japanese_. Seungri remembers that he is not _Seungri_ anymore.

“Ah, yeah, sorry, I’m just a bit tired,” he turns to the man beside him and recognizes him immediately as one of his partner, a friend of a friend that happened to have the same interest in hot dog business.

“You look tired,” Seunghyun says when they walk to the parking lot. “Rest a lot, I’m heading back to Seoul.”

Seungri is glad that Seunghyun speaks Korean again. “I’ll try to, take care of yourself, hyung.”

“I will. Don’t forget next week and stay away from _troubles_.”

“I don’t know you read _gossips_?”

“I don’t, Youngbae told me. He said that you _always_ in the front page.”

“I am popular.”

Seunghyun growls. “Jiyong will scold you.”

“He doesn’t talk to me, remember?”

For a moment, Seungri thinks Seunghyun won’t say anything. Like the rest of them, he knows. Seungri never told him, Seungri never told anybody, but it was visible for everyone that Seungri didn’t even have to explain. And nobody ever asked him to.

“Jiyong will, if _you_ let him. It’s been years, Seungri, let’s just…fix it up?”

“Fix what?” Seungri is tired enough to care right now. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, hyung.”

“Jiyong will come next week too, I’ve told him to.”

“ _Fuck_ you, he will come to my show first.”

“Oh,” Seunghyun looks startled, probably by how bitter Seungri sounded.

“You have a plane to catch.”

“…right,” Seunghyun doesn’t scold him for being rude and Seungri doesn’t want to think about it because it reminds him of years in BIGBANG when they’re the two visuals, bickering every here and there, teasing each other and annoyed people together.

“Bye, hyung.”

***

_Whatever is broken._

Seungri hits the reply button half-heartedly. It’s only 6 am and he has no idea of what Seunghyun sent him a message about.

_What are you talking about, hyung?_

_Fix. Whatever was broken between you and Jiyong._

Seungri thinks of his scandals, his schedules, his retirement from singing career, his old _peaceminusone_ hat, and lastly, his heart.

_Whatever still is._

Seungri doesn’t reply.

***


	3. What Once Were

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Seungri tries hard to forget, he remembers a lot.

When he is alone, Seungri can hear Jiyong’s voice resounding in his ears, in his mind.

_Seungri-ya, you’re too much._

_Seungri, I love you._

_Seungri, stop it._

_Not funny, maknae._

_Maknae is always my favorite._

_What do you think about this, Seunghyun-ah?_

The voice is velvet with sharp edges and thick concerns, just the way it was; just the way Seungri opted to remember it. Soft, strong, playful, _beautiful_. Sometimes, when it’s unbearable and he wants to forget, Jiyong will greet him behind his eyelids, asking –pleading –for Seungri to keep him; to stay with him.

Most of times, when Seungri wishes to forget, the memory from that day will come back to him, reminding him of what once were; of what they were.

***

_“Hyung, don’t do this to me.”_

_“I don’t want to,” Jiyong wasn’t crying. “Trust me, I don’t want to do this.”_

_“Isn’t disbanding already bad enough, hyung?”_

_“Seunghyun-ah –”_

_“I can’t do this. We need to prepare ourselves for the announcement next Wednesday.”_

_“Seungri,” tears finally streaming down Jiyong’s face and to that…Seungri’s heart broken, into smaller –uglier –pieces than it’s already were. “I can’t lose you too.”_

_“You won’t!” Seungri choked on his own pain, his throat hurt so much from screaming, from begging, from wishing. “You won’t lose me if you never let me go.”_

_“I should,” Jiyong intertwined their fingers and Seungri’s heart chanted the same word all over again –lies, lies, lies, lies._

_“Hyung –”_

_“I’m letting you go, Seunghyun…”_

***

Seungri wants the world. Just like he, many years ago, squeezing himself into BIGBANG, trying his best to win Hyun Suk’s heart, sweating, praying to be accepted, to claim his position. He wants many things, he wants to be part of almost everything. He worked hard to be in his position now, with help from the others, of course.

Seungri loves making friends. He loves being recognized, he loves being surrounded by people. It’s the only thing that keeps him busy, keeps him alive. Within the crowd, nobody will notice him frowning. In the seas of bodies swaying to the music, nobody will see him drowning.

Under the spot light, nobody will think he is crying.  It’s all for stage act, it’s all for the fame, it’s all for _fun_ and Seungri wants to keep it that way, as long as possible.

Sometimes, Seungri manages to fool himself to believe that it’s enough. At night, when he’s standing in his bedroom, curtains wide open showing the beautiful colors of lights from the city displayed through the glass, he tells himself that it’s _enough_. Last week, when he was asked in one interview of how did it feel to be listed as the fifth in Most Successful Businessman Under 40, he smiled and told them it was enough for him. Whenever his friends or acquaintances asked him why he didn’t have a girlfriend yet, Seungri would tell them that he enjoyed being _free_.

Because Seungri had been set free, by the _cage_ he wished to be in forever.

Sometimes, when he’s half sober, he would dance by himself, to the song he used to sing on stage. As imagination runs wild inside him, as if he’s surrounded by friends, by fans, Seungri would convince himself that it’s enough.

If not for a lifetime, then at least for a reason to wake up tomorrow.

***

“’m ‘wake,” Seungri smashes the alarm off. People nowadays prefer to set their alarm in their phone, but Seungri has this annoying little clock on his bedside table that rings every 6 am in the morning every day. It isn’t that Seungri is old fashioned, because Seungri always makes sure that he owns the latest gadget and most technology, it’s more for a sentimental reason of reminiscing his younger days, when chocopie was luxury and Jiyong would hold him close in sleep.

Cold weather greets his feet as soon as he gets up, so he opts to check his phone while snuggling under his blanket.

_5 missed calls._

Four of them were from his manager, there are messages too, Seungri will check it later. The other one was form unknown number and curiosity gets the best of him.

_Dialing…_

He waits and waits until the voice mail lady greets him in robotic voice. Shrugging to himself, he throws the phone carelessly on the bed. His schedule for today is less packed than yesterday, only a meeting with the producer and some more people to prepare for his show. Despite his own will, he chuckles. Everyone seems startled when Jiyong agreed to come to the show. Sometimes, Seungri forgets that Jiyong is popular, still _that_ popular. Maybe because he had seen the worst side or him, or that he had broken Seungri’s heart. There are just reasons that Seungri tries his best to forget Jiyong.

Today, unfortunately, he needs to do his best to remember it all. Which is not hard since Seungri still remembers a lot about him, things he should’ve forgotten already. Like the way Jiyong’s eyelids would flutter shut when he’s shy, the way his hand would shot up to cover his mouth when he’s laughing, the way he would look at Seungri.

_Just today,_ Seungri mumbles to himself and the pain stays still. Sting and ugly, just like four years ago and every day ever since that day. _Just today._

***

The traffic is ridiculous. He didn’t expect that, to be honest. It’s only Friday and everyone seems to think its weekend already. Seungri sighs in frustration as he plays another level of Tetris game in his phone. _What a day,_ he thinks.

By the time he takes the elevator, it’s already 9.20, twenty minutes late. He can imagine his manager’s glare, the staffs he’s been working with for two years roll their eyes; probably mumbling something about being unprofessional, and the tired smile from the producer. He can see himself explaining, a little cheesy here and there, probably ends up with coffee treat for everyone, not that he mind much. Seungri loves going out.

What he faces as he takes a step in the meeting room is a complete opposite. His manager is nowhere to be seen and the staffs are laughing, talking, staring at something – _someone_ –the producer is talking to.

“Ah, there he is,” finally someone notices him and Seungri nods.

“I’m sorry, the traffic –”

“We know,” his manager suddenly says from behind him that Seungri turns around. “I’ve told them, don’t worry about it.”

Seungri frowns at the concern in his voice but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he bows deeply at everyone in the room. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, how does coffee sound? After this meeting?”

“Sounds nice.”

Seungri’s back straightens in a flash that he’s afraid he accidentally snaps himself into two. His head spins form the sudden motion but his mind freezes at the moment he meets those eyes.

“Coffee sounds nice,” the voice is still the same, firm and playful, sweet and careful. The man looks the same, beautiful. “Where’s the best coffee shop in Japan?”

_Kwon Jiyong._

Seungri isn’t sure of his answer; he doesn’t know any answers that won’t scare Jiyong away. He’s afraid of breathing, scared that he’s been dreaming the whole time.

*******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was posted on AFF under the name daengel. I'm sorry for typos and other mistakes <3, Please contact me if you're interested in beta-ing ><  
> Talk to me on Instagram @iamdaengel <3


	4. Running, Reminiscing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wants to run, far and far away. His heart wants to stay; now, everyday.

If you give Seungri a million dollar now, he will go to the nearest airport and book a flight to Africa. If you give him hundred million dollar, he will get himself an Apollo to take him to Mars. Heck, even if you give Seungri a burnt sandwich _right now_ , he will still use it as an excuse to fly himself somewhere.

Somewhere without Kwon Jiyong, who is now sitting in front of him, wearing the same humble smile Seungri had seen enough of for _almost_ his entire life.

“What do you think about it, _VI-san_?”

Seungri blinks his eyes, as clueless as ever at the sudden question. Only now he realizes that they’re _talking_. Well, what else actually people supposed to do in a meeting?

“Ah well,” he tries his best not to stutter and his manager rolls his eyes at the charming smile he attempts to break on his face. “It’s G-Dragon anyway, so everything, _anything_ , will be great.”

To his relief, the producer smiles at his ridiculous answer. The staffs must think it’s funny too because they laugh and Seungri wears his proud grin once again.

“Right, it’s G-Dragon,” someone says that and everyone hums and nods in acknowledgement.

“Seungri always says that,” Jiyong shakes his head, but him too, also smiling. “I’m not that good, Seungri-ya.”

Seungri’s throat burnt from the way his stage name still rolls perfectly from Jiyong’s lips, from the fact Jiyong said that in Korean instead of Japanese, from the way Jiyong’s eyes stare at him, from the way he said ‘always’ like Seungri _always_ said that, even though for the past four years, they barely talked to each other.

***

Seungri isn’t a big fan of coffee. It’s just too bitter for his liking. Seunghyun often teased him that Seungri should be able to handle the bitterness because life wouldn’t be as sweet as he wanted it to be. Seungri laughed at his statement, but later then he thought that it’s true though. Life wouldn’t be that sweet and Seungri should try harder to like coffee.

“No juice?” Jiyong’s eyes find his and Seungri freezes for a moment. He still has that power with him, the power to look at Seungri and make him feel like he is good, great enough, or even worse, the only one. “I don’t know you like coffee now.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” maybe, Seungri wants to hurt him.

“I don’t. I wish I do, though.”

“Their juice isn’t good either,” perhaps, Seungri doesn’t – _can’t –_ hurt him.

Jiyong nods. “I see you’re doing well,” his expression brightens as if he’s proud of him, of what Seungri had done. As if it was one of that Gatsby party Seungri had and Jiyong was invited in it; in Seungri’s life.

“I am,” Seungri says quietly because it’s not only them two. It’s just as he promised, coffee and waffles treat for the staffs. They aren’t talking about secrets, Jiyong isn’t talking about secrets, but Seungri feels like it is. “I’m fine.”

He’s used to keep many things as secrets. He’s used to keep _Jiyong_ as a secret.

“I’m going to see Daesung after this, do you want to go with me?”

“I can’t, I have an appointment at eight,” Seungri glances sideways and feels relieved because his manager is too busy to notice his lie.

Jiyong doesn’t say anything although he knows it’s only twelve and if Seungri has an urge to ask why Jiyong is here right now, why nobody told him that Jiyong would be there, he doesn’t say anything either.

***

“Are you mad at Jiyong-hyung or me?”

Seungri laughs at the whiny tone Daesung put in his voice. “Neither of you actually.”

“Then why didn’t you come along?”

“I have appointment at eight.”

He made appointment at eight, with loneliness and half bottle of wine.

“Sure,” out of all people, Daesung is always the hardest to lie to. “Make sure you eat something.”

“Awww, are you my girlfriend now?”

“Yes, I’m your girlfriend now, oppa~~” Daesung uses his high pitched voice and it never fails to crack Seungri up. “Cause I am your girlfriend, I’m your one and only~~”

“Nah, thanks, Seunghyun hyung will kill me.”

“Ah, let’s just don’t tell him,” the older man laughs. “He is still a big whiny hyung.”

“Agreed, he fits your secret fetish of being babysitter.”

“Excuse you, I don’t have it.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“My ideal type is Jiyong-hyung, I told you. I’ve told the world.”

Seungri smiles. “Okay, girlfriend.”

Daesung doesn’t say anything for good minutes but when he does, Seungri wishes he didn’t.

“But Jiyong-hyung’s ideal type is you.”

“Funny,” Seungri pinches the bridge of his nose and starts making mental notes of things he should buy. He’s running out of eggs, butter, toothpaste, aftershave, beers, and definitely cans of beers. Probably he should ask Seunghyun for wine recommendation soon. Very soon.

“I think so too,” Daesung speaks again but this time, he makes clear that he wants Seungri’s attention. “That’s funny that you’re Jiyong-hyung’s –“

“–I was,” Seungri cuts him off. He’s not sure of how many things he can handle. Or that he will ever be able to handle it. It’s still a struggle for him to wake up everyday and think that he’s _alone_. “Probably not even _was_.”

“I told him that you’re mad,” his hyung sighs. Seungri is glad that _mad_ was the word, not _sad_. “I told him that he deserves that.”

“He listens to you. Jiyong-hyung listens to you.”

“Not really when it’s about _you_. Jiyong-hyung often thinks that he knows everything about you.”

“He doesn’t,” Seungri feels stupid because he used to think that he knew everything about Jiyong too. “He doesn’t know me.”

***

Seungri can’t forget one night in early 2017. He was practicing some Chinese words when Jiyong barged in to his room, eyebrows knitted together and Seungri swore that there’s steam coming out of him.

“Hyung?” he flipped his book closed and Jiyong marched toward him. “What’s wrong?”

It didn’t hurt when Jiyong pulled him up until they stood face to face, barely ten centimeters away from each other’s face.

“Why did you say that?”

Jiyong seemed like he was torn between anger and sadness, Seungri didn’t know what to do about that.

“Say what?”

“That you’re not good. _No good_. You’re just –additional _fucking_ something?”

Seungri could think of thousand reasons to turn this into comedy, into lame Osaka gagman joke his members often teased him about, but Jiyong was fumed and his eyes weren’t sparkling, so Seungri told him the only honest answer he had.

“Because I am not. I can’t do things like the others, I can’t –I can’t even dance.”

If it sounded ridiculous, Jiyong didn’t laugh. He pulled Seungri instead, in a big bear hug and Seungri snuggled to his protection almost immediately when he received it. It’s been years since the last time they cried together so maybe it’s okay to savor a moment of closeness when time spared them some.

“I need you, as Seungri, as Lee Seunghyun, as _you_. You’re great for me, for us. I will never let you go.”

Seungri clutched onto the words harder than he wanted. “Never?”

“Never.”

 

Even after he found out that it was a lie, Seungri still remembered that night. 

***

 


	5. In A Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a mess, Seungri finds himself wondering about things he's still running away from.

When he was on his way to the airport, watching the view of Seoul fading away in sunset through the window glass as his manager drove, Seungri counted in his head.

 

_His villa-house._

_His childhood friends._

_BIGBANG’s recording studio._

_His favorite ripped jeans._

_Potted cactus from his fans._

_Small panda figurine he used to toy in between his fingers._

_Box of rings he often used for performances._

 

When he reached the airport, three hours before the flight, he had a long list already of things he would leave behind. He could head the fans screaming his name; probably for the last time. He closed his eyes and didn’t let the tears fall.

Probably that’s why he forgot to put his feelings in the list. Feelings for Jiyong that he’s supposed to leave behind too, along with all those memories he could never wash away.

***

“Ngg?” Seungri mumbles groggily, knocking something –that ended up on the floor with a quiet crashing sound –in the process of snatching his phone from the nightstand. “What?” he doesn’t care about politeness before 7 am, whoever is calling needs to bear with his sleepy state. There’s no reply coming from the other end for full two minutes that he unconsciously snuggles to his comforter and slowly drifting back to sleep.

“Are you falling back asleep, _Seunghyun-ah_?”

Seungri bolts to sit up immediately upon hearing the name. It’s his, for sure, and he never thought to change it, even for fame or any kind of ridiculous reason, but right now, he is considering the thought. “How do you know my number?”

“I called you today –no, yesterday,” Jiyong’s voice is a little unsteady. Seungri can easily picture him sandwiching the phone between his ear and his shoulder, while his fingers holding a cigarette and the other hand is pouring a drink. _That’s if he’s still keeping that habit._ “You were sleeping. You called me back but I missed that.”

Seungri debates whether he should tell Jiyong that he wished it was all just his fantasy and Jiyong wasn’t there, that they didn’t meet, didn’t talk; that it was just a memory from the past Seungri _accidentally_ recalled.

“I didn’t know it was you.”

“What would you do if you knew it was me?”

“I don’t know,” Seungri traces the Jerry pattern on his blanket – _childish_ , most of his one night stand would call it, before he let them see what’s inside his wallet, of course. “But it doesn’t matter.”

“That you didn’t know it was me or that you don’t know what you’d do if you knew it was me?”

Years ago, Seungri would do anything to have Jiyong to call him. Sending selcas, train of messages, weird-funny sticker and emojis, anything to catch Jiyong’s attention, to make that voice travels from the other end to Seungri’s ear.

But it was years ago.

“Probably both,” Seungri says after a while because Jiyong doesn’t seem to let the question drop. “It doesn’t matter, hyung. What do you want? It’s early morning in Tokyo.”

“I’m in Tokyo too. I’m staying until next week.”

_Shit._

_Where?_

“…sure. Should I throw you a what –welcoming party something?”

“No, but probably we can talk.”

“Probably? As in you’re not sure if we _can_ talk or we _should_ talk?”

“I’m not sure if you still want to talk to me.”

“And if I don’t?”

“But we should.”

Seungri presses the _end call_ button angrily.

_Why?_

***

Seungri spent his _official_ first day alone in Japan after BIGBANG with two scoops of vanilla ice cream and a cup of instant noodles. He watched the cars passing by in distant from his 20th floor apartment, wondering if this was how it supposed to feel –if it was the best way to deal. He claimed himself not running away, yet there he was thinking if somewhere out there still a place he’d call home.

When the sun set, he closed the curtain, he closed his eyes. He knew how to deal with heartbreak, he knew how to plaster a smile even when his heart shattered. He knew how to slowly letting go, he understood how to stand still and watched someone fading away –walking away.

What Seungri didn’t know was how to fade away, walk away, how to be set free. He didn’t know how to leave, to not look behind for a person –for love. Seungri didn’t know how to not wondering about how Jiyong would feel, what he would say, what he would do.

He didn’t even know if it was a heartbreak, if there were hearts to break between them. Jiyong’s heart for sure wasn’t Seungri’s and he had been told multiple –thousand times –that Jiyong’s heart was already broken, was already in pieces. It was already torn by his previous relationships, by people Seungri didn’t know and people Jiyong said that Seungri _didn’t have_ to know.

Still, Seungri couldn’t stop wondering if there’s a piece of that heart that belonged to him, that he could take with him, that he could borrow, that he shouldn’t leave behind.

He couldn’t stop wondering if there’s a way where he didn’t have to leave anything at all.

***

_“I’m letting you go, Seunghyun..”_

_“It’s unfair, you know.”_

_“Is anything? Ever?”_

_“Hyung,” Seungri’s voice cracked with both disappointment and anger but it was his tears that found the best way to show up. “..don’t do this.”_

_“I should,” Jiyong reached for his hand and held it, just like the first time they met, a handshake that meant nothing yet everything. “I should.”_

_“Why? We’re not  –they won’t –they…they don’t know –”_

_“I love you,” Jiyong cut him in. The words that supposed to be his strength were now cutting Seungri’s heart too. “I love you, Lee Seunghyun. That’s the reason of all, above all.”_

_And then Seungri pushed him away, because Seungri didn’t know where to hold onto when love was all about parting ways._

_“I love you,” he heard Jiyong said as he gathered his belongings –a toothbrush, one expensive old coat, his wallet. “I don’t want to hurt you, Seunghyun-ah.”_

_“You do,” Seungri dropped his key to Jiyong’s apartment on the kitchen counter, just like the time Jiyong gave it to him, clattered against the surface. “You already did, many times.”_

_“That’s why –”_

_“That’s why this time please don’t.”_

***

In the evening, kicking off his leather shoes and turning on the heater, Seungri picks up a call from Seunghyun.

“Morning, Bro.”

“Uh-huh, no old jokes please, _old man_ , and it’s almost midnight here.”

Seunghyun curses and Seungri snickers.

“You have more wrinkles than me.”

“Business comes first, Mr. Choi.”

“ _Fuck_ , you’re right. How was Jiyong?”

“You tell me, hyung. Wasn’t it you meeting with him many times that set the media went riot with taking your pictures?”

“Yes and yes, and I _posted_ pictures so the media went _stupid_ wasn’t my fault.”

“It was after they barked _BIGBANG REUNITE_ on the headlines that you took pity on them. Still, thank you for clarifying the issues by posting that GD and TOP blurry photos without captions.”

“You’re welcome, Bro. So how was Jiyong?”

“What’s with the same question, hyung?”

“Fine, I’ll change it. How was Jiyong _with you_?”

“I wasn’t with him. I was with the entire staffs –wait, how do you even know I met him?”

“Ah –”

“Daesung hyung told you? That I met Jiyong hyung and refused to go together to his place?”

“No,” Seunghyun chuckles and Seungri is positive that his hyung is now smirking, if he wasn’t already. “You just told me that.”

“Wha –”

“If there are things that has changed in the past four years, it’s definitely not Daesung’s well-known ability to keep secrets, Bro.”

“Yeah, I know…Sorry, I was just...yeah...”

“Jiyong told me.”

“Another GD and TOP meeting, eh?”

“Are you drunk or it’s another attempt on changing the topic?”

“I am completely sober, hyung.”

“So you must forget that Jiyong is actually _there_ in Japan and I am not?”

Seungri bites his tongue _literally_. “Right. So why don’t you ask him how was that meeting with me?”

“Because he told me to ask you? And because…well, Jiyong.”

“What is _well Jiyong_ supposed to mean?”

“You know him.”

“I believe I don’t. I used to think I do.”

“Well, Jiyong –” Seunghyun pauses. “–didn’t tell me anything. That’s something you’re supposed to _already_ know.”

“I used to know,” Seungri’s fingers unconsciously twist the bracelet he’s wearing. “It’s been years.”

“Then talk.”

“I –”

“No, I’ve had enough,” Seunghyun voice is nothing but a command. “I’ve had enough of you running away, of Jiyong running away, of whatever _fucking_ happened between you two, and worst of all, running away from whatever that _didn’t_ happen. Sleep, Seungri.”

Seungri hears the _click_ sound and pretend that he isn’t trembling, that he isn’t thinking of things he ran away from; he _still_ running away from.

***

 


	6. Caving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of time, his heart wins. His stubborn heart that forgets to move on.

Seungri wakes up with a startle. Panic colors his eyes and his heart beats fast. He can’t remember the dream, but every fiber in his body tells him that it wasn’t a good one. It’s silent in his apartment that his ragged breathing resounding through the walls. He shakes his head in attempt to get himself back, his controlled mind back, his usual cheerful-self Seungri back. Taking a deep breath, he tries to relax.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Four._

_Five._

His phone vibrates angrily from the nightstand. Groaning slightly for it breaking his attempt to go back to sleep, he reaches blindingly for the device. Seems like recently, more and more people favor in calling him in early hours.

“Hello?”

“Seungri, _pick me pick me pick me up_ ~”

Even in his sleepy and tired state, his heart skips a beat. _Don’t,_ his head says, but his heart wins.

“Hyung, it’s... _fucking_ four in the morning, don’t play with me.”

“I’m not!” Jiyong’s voice is childish and angry, the sign that he is either drunk or crazy. Knowing him, it might be both. “Pick me up?”

“Call someone else.”

“Who?”

“Your manager? Daesung-hyung? Your _friends_?”

“Why can’t I call you? I am calling you, _baby~_ ”

“Anyone but me. Now if you excuse me –”

“Pick me up now.”

Seungri’s mouth hangs open as Jiyong hung up on him. Staring blankly at his phone screen, he can hear the gears in his mind running. _Don’t_ , his head says, this time, louder.

_Where the fuck are you?_ , and he presses _send_.

_….but his heart wins._

***

Youngbae had warned him before and Seungri thought that he was too naïve to get the message.

Or that he was simply too stupid to understand.

 

“Jiyong…” Youngbae’s eyes trailed from the floor up to meet Seungri’s. “…is _hard_ to overcome.”

Seungri blinked at him. He gulped down and hide his hands behind his back so Youngbae wouldn’t see that he was trembling. They were just coming back from dance practice and Jiyong had been pretending that he couldn’t hear Seungri the entire day.

_Be brave, listen to your hyungs,_ he heard his mother’s voice in his head.

“It’s like…well, walls,” Youngbae glanced to his side and Seungri wasn’t sure if it was because he’s afraid Jiyong would emerge suddenly from his room or that he was looking for the right explanation of his bestfriend. “He protects us in his way and he doesn’t really let anyone come in to see _him_.”

“He doesn’t seem to like me,” Seungri said quietly but Youngbae caught that anyway. “He doesn’t seem to want to do _anything_ with me, hyung.”

“Not yet,” Youngbae patted his shoulder gently and the mere touch soothed Seungri. “And don’t feel so _low_ , Seunghyun-ah.”

Seungri didn’t know how not to feel so low in front of someone who had many things, who could do many things, who was as talented as Jiyong, but he nodded.

“Okay, hyung.”

Youngbae smiled at him, so warm that Seungri felt like crying. Youngbae was Jiyong’s bestfriend and Seungri could understand _why_ the moment he talked to him. He’s been a trainee for years too, but he didn’t see Seungri as something weird, as something new, as someone who didn’t belong there.

Seungri wondered if Youngbae too, felt like someone just robbed his dream.

“I think you can.”

“I can?”

“Yeah,” Youngbae’s cap was green and he was nothing but hip-hop boy. Seungri suddenly felt so small compared to him, standing there in his plain white T-shirt and sweatpants. “You can break _into_ Jiyong.”

“But…how?”

Youngbae shrugged, his eyes disappeared as he smiled. “Well, you managed to break _into_ YG, Jiyong is just a level higher than that. Don’t give up, huh?”

Seungri made a promise to himself that he would never give up. _Ever._

“And –” Youngbae sighed. “–don’t get hurt.”

Seungri was confused but he didn’t say anything.

_What could possibly hurt him once Jiyong looked at him in the eyes, listened to what he’s about to say?_

_What could possibly hurt more than not being accepted by Jiyong?_

***

“Just in case you forget –,” Seungri’s eyes trailing the movement of his credit card being swiped, beside him, Jiyong hiccups. “ –we didn’t talk for years.”

“Uh-huh,” Jiyong pokes his side and Seungri winches. The older male, white hair and in black suit, bundled up in strong familiar scent of cigarette Seungri thinks he had forgotten about.

_Well, he should._

“I let you pay for me,” Jiyong’s eyes drop shut, his lips form a lopsided smirk Seungri knows too well, the one he shows whenever he’s proud of himself. “I spoil you too much, Brat.”

Seungri starts the engine. “Seatbelt on, please.”

He waits and when Jiyong doesn’t make a sign of any movement beside the steady rhythm of his chest up and down, he decides to give him help.

Seungri pretends he doesn’t miss the way Jiyong’s breaths caressing his skin as he reaches out to tug on the seatbelt. He pretends he doesn’t hear Jiyong mumbling incoherent words. He pretends that it’s just something he should do, only him, could do.

Seungri pretends to be a hero, someone who is trapped in something he cannot get out of, for the sake of the whole world, even when his world is crumbling down once again at that very moment Jiyong’s hand tugs on his sleeve as the car starts to move.

***

Youngbae can be a tease when he wants to be one. More often than not, it’s the _only thing_ he wants.

“What was that again?”

Seungri is about to roll his eyes when he decides that it’s too much work. He is tired enough already, unsure if he will be able to go back to sleep with Jiyong now claiming his very bed.

“I know you heard me, hyung,” he huffs a breath of frustration. “What am I supposed to do?”

“ _With_ what? About what?” Youngbae’s voice is playful enough to make Seungri whine but the elder doesn’t give up on him that easy. “Or should I ask about _whom_?”

Seungri hears someone else’s voice over the phone and he jolts back to awareness that it’s still dark-foggy skies out there. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t call.”

“It’s just Seungri, sweetheart…hmm? yes, he is okay,” he hears Youngbae says in a distant, so it must be Hyorin or one of the baby. Youngbae calls them all sweetheart, his sweetheart _s_ and Seungri swears he could see colorful sparkles in Youngbae’s eyes whenever he speaks about his _girls_. “Seungri?”

“Yeah? I’m sorry, hyung, I shouldn’t –”

“I heard that and yes you should. Call me, call Daesung, call Seunghyun hyung, call your manager, _heck_ call your mom even? You should. Call anyone, ask someone.”

Seungri’s eyes trail Jiyong’s shadowed figure, still slender and skin dry, probably having _too much_ time in the recording studio again. He notices Jiyong’s mismatched socks too, but maybe it’s just fashion nowadays. Jiyong is always about breakthrough that Seungri used to follow.

“You’ve been…bundled up with feelings, with –with pride that you can do it all alone, sometimes you forgot that you _can’t_ ,” Youngbae snaps him out of his trance.

Seungri gives out a smile even when he knows Youngbae can’t see it. “I’m sorry, mom,” he playfully jokes.

It’s Youngbae’s turn to sigh, but instead of frustration, it’s more of a relief. Like he’s found something that was missing. “Talk, Seungri.”

“Everyone has been telling me the same,” he can’t help but pouting. There’s nobody he should please, nothing he should really care about when he’s home, so be like a petulant child he is, whining to his hyung, “What am I supposed to talk about? And I talk a lot. Like really a lot, that’s my job.”

“You,” Youngbae says with no doubt. “Talk about you, about what you’re afraid of, what you’re thinking about.”

“Am I not? I always talk about me, I love being the center of gravity.”

“You are, oh almighty Victory.”

“Don’t pick on me.”

“What else am I supposed to do with my life? Anyway, I don’t really know about what are you supposed to do with Jiyong. It’s a situation I wish I could stay away from.”

“Thanks, hyung. That’s so helpful.”

“It’s not –ugh, you know what I mean,” Youngbae tries to reason but falters away with Seungri’s silence.

Seungri unconsciously holds his breath when Jiyong stirs in his sleep, hugging his pillow tighter, hair sticks out to every direction and damp with sweat.

“You never told me,” Youngbae says after a pause. “About what had happened.”

“Hyung –”

“Or what didn’t happen,” patience grows out from Youngbae and Seungri feels like he’s being ripped open, his throat hurts from burning sensation of pushing cries that he had not realized he’s been holding inside. “Seungri, is there _anything_ you want to tell me?”

Seungri thinks of thousand reasons he has to say _no_ but then Jiyong’s eyes crack open with subtle move.

“Yes, no, I don’t know oh –he’s awake! Jiyong hyung –he’s here, he didn’t do anything…he’s there and I’m –I really…”

“Let me talk to him, Seung –”

Seungri doesn’t – _couldn’t_ –hear the rest of his sentence. The moment Jiyong’s eyes meet his, his world stops spinning.

***


	7. Where

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He tries to find a way out.  
> Or in.

At first, Jiyong was such a _distance_ he couldn’t measure, sometimes he’s so near yet the next second, he’s already too far. He’s been out of Seungri’s reach since day one and Seungri’s attempts to change it only set Jiyong’s jaw tighten.

“What are you doing?”

Seungri presented him his best smile, ones that sent many girls from his high school fell head over heels, but Jiyong seemed abashed, remained unmoving from his position observing Seungri –and the object in Seungri’s hand.

“Cleaning up,” Seungri’s eyes demand to blink but he was afraid the moment he opened them up, Jiyong would already be gone. “ –hyung,” he added.

Jiyong’s face scrunched up in anger and Seungri’s body tensed up at the tension filled the room. Jiyong had the ability to _stand out_ , he possessed the aura that demand people to _look_  at him, to watch whatever he wanted –allowed –them to.

“But this is _my_ place,” his voice was unmistakably cold, Seungri held his next breath. “You can’t clean up _here_.”

If there was something Seungri not really boasting about himself, it must be his determination. Or it was just stubborn, all the same.

“It’s ours,” Seungri balled his fist, gripping tight on the stack of papers he was collecting from the carpeted floor just seconds before Jiyong found him. “It’s BIGBANG’s now.”

The look on Jiyong’s face was something Seungri would never forget about. Unconsciously, he braced himself for any kind of blow, of lash out, of angry shouts; anything Jiyong would say or throw at him. To his surprise, Jiyong only said a word.

“What?”

_Oh, it was a question._

“I said –“ Seungri sucked deep for air. “ –that it’s now ours. You’re not alone or two anymore. We’re –we’re team and this is ours.”

“Those are mine,” Jiyong said finally after an uncomfortable silence. “Those papers are mine, put them on the table,” and he disappeared, without the usual slamming of door.

 

Seungri didn’t get to see him after he’s done cleaning, didn’t get to talk to him when they met at home. He didn’t say a word about it, but strangely, Jiyong seemed to let it go too. The very next day as they entered the recording room, Seungri caught a smile ghosting on Jiyong’s face when his eyes landed upon the neat stacked papers on the table.

And that was enough for Seungri to smile for the rest of the day.

*******

“Thanks,” Jiyong’s fingers brush his as he takes the glass of water Seungri offers. He swallows a big gulp and cringes at what Seungri suspects a dizzy sensation from both consuming alcohol and sleepiness. “Maybe –maybe I should go.”

“Where?” Seungri asks before he could stop himself. Maybe he wants to know the answer.

_Maybe if he chooses to care, it will be easier._

Jiyong shrugs, his coat bounces up and lets Seungri takes a glimpse of his collarbones. “Anywhere.”

“Sure,” Seungri smiles softly –bitterly. “It’s _G-Dragon_.”

“I am. I always am.”

“Yeah,” because Seungri is not _Seungri_ anymore. “So, you’re going…where?”

“Probably my friends.”

“Or go back to your hotel.”

“Or not,” Jiyong grins sheepishly. “You know I don’t really like being _alone_.”

“… _It_ makes you _think_.”

“ _Kinda_. Care to show me the way out?”

There’s a flame inside him that Seungri struggles to explain. There’s a rushing pain in his veins that Seungri wants to ignore. There’s something in his chest that Seungri wishes to have a name for.

There’s pieces of him that gain its new hope instead of breaking apart _again_.

“No.”

Jiyong frowns. “Oh well –I guess I’ll find out –”

“ _That’s_ the way to the bathroom. I’ll be sleeping in the living room if you need me.”

“Wha –you…you mean I can stay –”

“Sleep.”

 

_Maybe it will be easier._

***

To Seungri, Jiyong was a _match_. He lit him up, lighten his world. He was a summer, sweet fairytale on winter. He was the light Seungri looked up to, Seungri chased about. Something in Jiyong’s eyes shone like emerald and it took everything Seungri had to not to want it more than he already did. To have that kind of warmth surrounding him.

Until Jiyong burnt him up, until everything was nothing but smoke, until dreams were ashes and promises were gone.

Until Seungri danced on gasoline, burning and burning ‘til its blinding light.

***

The bed is tidy and there’s no empty bottle or burnt cigarette on the floor, still there’s a scent, faint enough to remind him that it might be just his imagination, persistent enough to tell him that it wasn’t. Jiyong was there, for God knows how long until he decided to go out –away –without waking Seungri up or letting him know properly but leaving a small post-it note with PEACEMINUSONE logo at the bottom.

_Thank you_

Seungri stares at the scribbles long enough to hurt himself; enough to tell himself that maybe things won’t be easier no matter how many times he pretends that it will be.

***

“Hyung is not with me.”

Seungri snorts. “Maybe I just want to know how are _you_ doing?”

“Oh, right,” Daesung sighs. “Your concern is very touching.”

“No, really, how are you?”

“I’m okay, but you probably are not.”

Seungri wants to laugh because it’s true, because it’s something that Daesung can sense through a phone call, something that he never can ever lie about.

The fact that Jiyong still holds all the ability and opportunities to _fuck up_ his world by just showing up, Seungri thinks, _is ridiculous_.

“Kinda. I don’t know what to do.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“He left me a _thank you_ note. What’s that supposed to mean?”

Daesung sighs. “I’ll call him.”

Then he hangs up, leaving Seungri with ten thousand pieces of his heart he’s been trying to piece back together for four years.

***

It’s easy to be deluded in the thoughts of Kwon Jiyong. It’s so easy for Seungri to close his eyes and get lost in the sea of memories; in the hope that one day it will continue. That after all these times, they will find a way.

Seungri will find a way.

When things seemed surreal and he felt no longer able to hold himself together, Seungri would go to his _inbox_ , scrolling through messages until he found the oldest of all, the one he has forwarded to himself every time he got a new phone.

_Where are you?_

Then he will see himself sitting on the plane, standing on the stage, signing new business contract, sipping wine, dancing to a blasting music, having a silence afternoon, reading hundred pages of book, thousand miles away from home, from the man who sent the message many years ago.

Then Seungri will remember that he can be anywhere, he can be with someone else, he can do anything he wants to; that no more Kwon Jiyong wondering where Seungri is.

Then Seungri will tell himself about how it’s supposed to be. If he tries one more, a little more, he will make it through.

To let go or to come back, Seungri doesn’t really know.

***


	8. A Love I Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A love he doesn't,  
> A feeling he can't,  
> A wish he shouldn't.

“So hyung, how about you stop being a _dick_?”

Jiyong spits out his drink and it probably leave stains later on his suit but what he really cares about at the moment is either Daesung has gone insane or accidentally hit himself while practicing his drum skill.

“What?!”

“This,” Daesung shakes his head, his soft Elizabeth Arden lipbalm-ed lips formed a thin line of disappointment and it settles Jiyong’s guilt in his stomach immediately. “ –Hyung.”

Jiyong wants to punch him for adding the honorifics because it means Daesung still look up to him like he _had to_ years ago. He wants to hug him because now, it’s the only thing he can hold onto.

“It’s not like you never seen me smoking,” Jiyong flicks his cigarette, ashes fall to the round black table but he can always call for a room service. “ –or drinking.”

“I’ve seen many things about you,” the younger man’s voice is still thick and perfect, sweet in everything he speaks when it’s private talk. “I thought I’ve seen the worst too.”

“You thought?”

“Until today.”

Jiyong doesn’t raise a question, he doesn’t have to. There are no lies or betrayal that can keep him away from _this_ matter, not anymore. Not when his head is chanting all over again the same name, the same dream.

_Seungri._

“Today is just not my day.”

“It still has ten hours before it ends, hyung.”

“What’s the matter, Daesung?”

“Seungri called me. He said you left a note.”

“Yeah.”

“A _thank you_.”

Jiyong crushes his cigarette and watches the fire down against the ashtray. “He’s not pleased with it?”

“He’s…surprised, I guess.”

“Not expecting me to leave a note, huh?”

“…Not expecting you to leave, hyung.”

“Daesung –”

“It’s not about me, hyung,” Daesung sighs. His hands are strong and warm, the way it always were. His eyes, however, are sad. Jiyong wants so badly to erase it, but he had seen the same emotion in Youngbae’s eyes and Seunghyun’s eyes, heck, he swears he had seen it in Dami’s eyes too whenever they accidentally spoke about Seungri. “It’s _not_ about how you should explain to everyone about how you feel.”

Jiyong wonders if his eyes also shine the same sadness.

“I don’t…love. I don’t.”

“Because you don’t want to?”

“Because I can’t.”

“Why can’t you?”

Jiyong shrugs as if it’s obvious. “I shouldn’t, should I?”

Daesung remains silence as he waits, as if he knows there are more behind Jiyong’s words, Jiyong’s action, Jiyong’s everything about Seungri.

“I shouldn’t love him, Daesung–ah. It’s _Seungri_.”

“Why not?”

Jiyong stares at him. “Are you completely insane?”

“You can’t even come up with _one_ reason of why you can’t love Seungri, hyung,” Daesung smiles. “So why shouldn’t you?”

***

The constant checks on him –secretly and not –made Jiyong felt uncomfortable enough that he had to snap and got sharp glares from Youngbae. Seungri apologized and gave up on reasoning himself for looking up at him, looking for him here and there after Jiyong told him that he didn’t need someone – _Seungri_ –to lean on after his relationship ended in rather tragic way than he expected it to be. And Seungri gave him a pack of _chocopie_ that got Jiyong stood in front of his room with surprise all over his face.

“I heard you love it.”

Jiyong was supposed to thank him but he didn’t say anything.

“You’ll do good without her too,” Seungri said and his tone was softer than velvet, Jiyong wished he didn’t hear him because he felt a lot more better than when he was with his ex-girlfriend and he needed the inspiration for his new broken-heart songs.

Jiyong replaced a _thank you_ with a pat on Seungri’s arm and the younger boy beamed at him, too bright that Jiyong ended up writing 3 pages about it while munching his chocopie, lyrics and melody he would never tell anyone, not even Seungri.

***

“Daesung wants me to talk to Seungri.”

“Oh, he finally snapped,” Seunghyun chuckles. “That’s my boy.”

“Since when Seungri is your boy?” Jiyong hates the growl he can’t hold back.

“ _Daesung_ is. Seungri is yours, as far as I can recall, Jiyong.”

Jiyong clears his throat. “Seungri is not mine.”

“Apparently not since you _can’t_ even talk to him,” there’s a smirk behind it, a tease that as clear as the day.

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Oh trust me, you’re dying to.”

“I trust you in anything but your opinion about me,” Jiyong hears his name being called. “Oops, Daesung is here.”

“Here _what_?”

“I’m in the stall.”

“ _WHAT_?!”

Jiyong laughs and knocks follow against the door, Daesung’s voice saying _hyung,_ too. “Bye, Seunghyun.”

“I thought you fainted or something,” Daesung eyes him worriedly and Jiyong pats his hair. “What took you so long?”

“I called for help,” Jiyong puts his mask on. “But it seems like universe is against me today.”

“Well, you don’t own universe, hyung.”

“I don’t,” Jiyong puts his mask on. _I wish I do._

***

It’s Seungri’s fault that Jiyong fell in love.

He shouldn’t look up at Jiyong, asking him if he’s good enough; if Seungri was enough. Because it made Jiyong smile and trust himself in his leader role.

He shouldn’t tell Jiyong everything he had done, he had gone through because it made Jiyong’s heart skip a beat at the thought that he’s being trusted and depended on.

He shouldn’t send Jiyong messages here and there everyday about anything because it made Jiyong feel less lonely when he caught up in hectic schedules.

He shouldn’t show up with a takeout food from Chinese restaurant near Jiyong’s apartment at night because it made Jiyong allow him to sleep over in his place; to stay.

He shouldn’t speak too high about Jiyong because it made Jiyong happy, it made Jiyong eager to speak about Seungri too, to let the world know about Seungri, everything Jiyong was ready to share about.

He shouldn’t come up with blankets, with jackets to cover up Jiyong’s tired body sprawled on the sofa. He shouldn’t come up with jokes or pathetic gags about himself to cover up Jiyong’s scandal, Jiyong’s embarrassment, Jiyong’s uncomfortable silence during interviews or variety shows. Because it made Jiyong want him even more, to pull Seungri under the cover and never let him away ever again.

He shouldn’t be there for Jiyong, because of Jiyong.

It made Jiyong fell in love with him, see blinding light that everything is white but Seungri.

 

_It’s all Seungri’s fault_ , Jiyong told himself the day he pushed him away.

_It’s all Seungri’s fault_ , Jiyong told himself those nights he drown himself in cigarette and pictures of Seungri.

_It’s all Seungri’s fault_ , Jiyong told himself every day as he missed him, loved him even more.

***

“Don’t mess up, okay?”

Jiyong laughs helplessly. “ _How_?”

Daesung shrugs. “Don’t turn your back, don’t leave.”

“What if I run away?”

“…Seungri will chase you.”

“And if he won’t?” Jiyong asks a question yet he doesn’t want to hear the answer.

“What if he will?”

Jiyong doesn’t say anything because there’s too much opportunities, too much ways out, too much road to run away.

“Go, hyung.”

“I have to knock?”

“No,” Daesung laughs. “Barge in. You’re good in it.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah, barging in Seungri’s personal space is your forte.”

“That’s not good.”

“Seungri would let you.”

“That’s even worse.”

Daesung’s car honks twice, _loudly_. “Now you don’t have to knock.”

Jiyong gets out of the vehicle and his eyes meet Seungri’s.

***


	9. A Coward and His Fear

Jiyong told himself that Seungri was not enough. He told everyone he knew that Seungri was not enough _yet_. He told Seungri himself that he was not enough.

_Jiyong was afraid of falling in love._

Jiyong forgot everything when Seungri was near. He couldn’t see what’s wrong, he didn’t remember his fear.

Jiyong didn’t know what life was until Seungri came into his life. Jiyong didn’t know what love was until Seungri asked him to stop. Jiyong didn’t know what lost was until Seungri disappeared.

Jiyong didn’t know everything, most of things, until _Seungri_.

***

Seungri’s house is big. It has white walls, pillars, and a patio. The gate is open and Seungri didn’t ask him to leave, didn’t shout at him, didn’t question Jiyong’s act of running away.

“Hey,” it sounds dull even to Jiyong’s ears.

“Hi again,” Seungri shrugs, he’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans and running shoes and an expensive looking watch. Jiyong would lecture him about fashion, about how he want him to dress up, about how he want Seungri to pay attention to their choice of clothes if only it’s not four years after Jiyong asked him to leave everything behind.

If only it’s not four years after everything shattered and Jiyong has no idea of how to fix everything.

_Or if anything is still fixable._

“So –um…I need to go,” Daesung pats Jiyong’s back. “Take care of hyung, okay?”

Jiyong glares at him but Seungri gives a little laugh.

“I always take care of _hyung_.”

“Good. And Seungri?”

“Yes?”

“If Jiyong hyung does something stupid, just call me? I’d love to get the opportunity to smack him.”

“Well, no? I won’t miss the chance to smack him by myself,” Seungri grins but he’s not looking at Jiyong. “But thanks D-Lite– _san_.”

“Guys, I’m the _hyung_ here and I am listening to your conversations.”

“Good luck then my hyung,” Daesung waves him goodbye along with his famous eye–smile.

***

Seungri pushed himself into BIGBANG, squeezed himself to get his position. Seungri wished, Seungri dreamed, Seungri _begged_ while Jiyong was taken aback. Seungri _wanted_ to be part of BIGBANG while Jiyong _refused_ the very idea of forming an idol group. Jiyong pushed Seungri away during their old days and Seungri worked his ass off, hard and too hard, to earn a gaze from Jiyong. It took few months for him, but it’s worth it in the end. A little poke, a weak jab, a little more than 4 words sentence from Jiyong and Seungri bloomed like a sunflower that turned Jiyong into a red rose because Jiyong wasn’t really sure if Seungri should see him like _that_.

Seungri was determined, while Jiyong was almost-giving up. Seungri would follow Jiyong’s movements intently, taking mental notes of what to do, how to do, _why_ to do. Seungri’s eyes were sharp and focused, just like everything about Seungri was, alarmed and ready.

“You scared me,” Jiyong told Seungri one night. They’re just back from practicing and loads of things they had to do as soon-to-be-debuted group. Seungri smelled like hardwork and Jiyong was nothing but angry. He didn’t really care, though, who heard, heard. “You seemed like you’re going to eat me alive with those panda eyes of yours.”

Seungri didn’t look at him. There’s a glimpse of emotion Jiyong never learned about before and he’s not sure if he would ever find out what it was. Seungri was an open book but definitely one of the most confusing and difficult one Jiyong had ever _read_ about. “You’re my leader.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Jiyong wasn’t sure if he should call him Seunghyun or Seungri. Jiyong only knew one Seunghyun before and Seungri was almost nothing like _that_ Seunghyun. Seungri meant Victory but Jiyong wasn’t sure yet if he was one.

“I’m supposed to follow you, hyung,” Seungri said and his voice was soft and wrecked. Jiyong was afraid if Seungri might break and he knew nothing about Seungri, about many things, let alone comforting anyone. “You don’t like it?”

Jiyong didn’t know the answer to that question, he wasn’t sure if he’d find out the answer; if he’d ever find out about it. “It’s not that I don’t like it. It’s just…we’re not in the practice. I’m not a leader to you _right now_.”

Seungri seemed to be at lost and it triggered the flame of anger inside Jiyong’s chest. As much as Jiyong disliked the term _leader_ , he liked being one, more than he’d ever admit himself.

“I am BIGBANG too.”

Jiyong didn’t know if Seungri was being defensive or proud or if that has any relation to what he said before; because it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Seungri made it through the audition, YG picked him –although the last and the final out of everyone else in the band –and Jiyong thought that maybe he was a little jealous of that; of the maknae’s joys and happiness when the staffs congratulated them.

Jiyong was jealous of Seungri.

“Yes, you are,” the newfound thought shook Jiyong and killed the anger in his head, in his heart; if that was ever been there. “-but we’re home now, Seunghyun.”

He hoped Seungri wasn’t paying attention to him, to the hoarse of his voice, how it was thick foreign as the word _home_ slipped past his lips. It wasn’t a home yet to them, it wasn’t even proper to be called _a house_. Youngbae called it _a room_ and Jiyong agreed with no doubt. That was BIGBANG for now.

But Seungri was, paying attention to _everything_ Jiyong, because Seungri always did.

“What?”

Jiyong was too tired for a debate. “We’re home now, even though it’s just a funny scented room.”

“You called me Seunghyun.”

“Wha- yeah, it’s your name, right?”

Seungri was small compared to Jiyong in many ways, but he was smart, smarter than Jiyong would ever be. Seungri knew how to take, Seungri knew how to give, and Seungri knew how to let the moment pass yet keeping it in memories.

“It is, thank you, hyung.”

Jiyong didn’t know if he was scared of Seungri because he might break Jiyong’s walls…or that he’s afraid of himself that he might break Seungri one day. Jiyong hoped he’ll find out soon, very soon.

***

“Nice house,” Jiyong traces the patterns of red tulips painted in the walls with his fingertips. “It suits you.”

“I don’t come here often,” Seungri says as if it was a question. “I crash in the apartment, mostly.”

“Then why did you buy this house?” Jiyong waits until Seungri disappears to another room to sit on the black leather sofa. A large flat-screen television plays cartoons and Jiyong feels like looking into the past when bickering was their daily routine until night came and took away all the tension to let them snuggle against each other under the pink blanket they managed to steal from Seunghyun’s room.

“Because it’s nice,” Seungri returns with two glasses and orange juice. Jiyong takes his offer and tries so hard not to _feel_ when his fingers touch Seungri’s hands, of how he wants to tease him about his chubby hands, his darker panda eyes, his curly hair.

“Thanks,” Jiyong swallows hard, Seungri sits beside him and flicking through the channel with the remote. “Your house is nice.”

Seungri doesn’t say anything for a while, only tapping the button until he settles on one cartoon. “It’s nice to have a house. I guess I just wanted to _have_ something.”

“Yeah,” Jiyong nods. The orange juice is slightly sour but Jiyong’s heart feels bitter. “It’s always nice to have something,” he speaks softly as his eyes glued to the Tom and Jerry on the screen but his mind travels to the conversation four years ago, about what to have, what to do, what he was supposed to do, what he _thought_ he was supposed to do.

***


	10. The Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One night, one kiss, one mistake. A beginning of disaster, an ending of forever.

“I’ve known you for years,” Seunghyun spat out, almost in disgust. But Jiyong had known him for years too to know that he’s hurt instead of anything else. “You’re _fucking_ stupid, Jiyong.”

“Then you clearly don’t know me.”

“I bet you don’t even know yourself,” Seunghyun yanked him by his collar but Jiyong’s heart was already in pieces so nothing could possibly hurt more. “You want Seungri to –What was in your stupid brain?!”

“Seungri,” Jiyong looked at him in the eyes but he only saw red dots and grey surroundings. “It was Seungri.”

Seunghyun sighed and hugged his friend tight. “What happened? Can you just tell me what’s this all about?”

“Me,” Jiyong wanted to bite his nail because his stomach scrunched up in nervousness, in emptiness. “It’s me.”

***

_If I’m not in BIGBANG, I will be Seungri’s manager._

Jiyong liked to know where he was, what Seungri had done, what he was wearing, what’s his schedule next, whom he’d be meeting with, what kind of party he would attend next, where he bought that sparkling shoes, how many cherries he wanted on his birthday cake, how was his business going, what’s his idea of their next album, which color Seungri thought would suit Jiyong, why he wanted to try that kind of food, who was that girl standing next to him in that picture, when was their next trip to Japan.

Jiyong liked to know everything about Seungri, he loved knowing everything about Seungri. Jiyong wanted to know as much as possible that Seungri often rolled his eyes at him.

“Even my manager doesn’t _act_ like you,” he laughed as Jiyong shook his head at his choice of tie.

“Your manager isn’t as good in fashion as me. Try this one.”

“Pink?” Seungri questioned in disbelief but he put it on because he trusted Jiyong in it; he believed in him in many things that often left Jiyong smiled because he would never believe in himself as much as Seungri did. Maybe that’s another reason why he liked Seungri that much –because Seungri watched him moving as if Jiyong carried a star in his arms; sparkling, mesmerizing.

The only time Seungri didn’t believe in him was when Jiyong told him that he wasn’t good enough. That he was tired enough, sick enough to continue. That maybe after all these times, he wasn’t meant for anything they’ve been fighting for.

_You’re enough for me, hyung._

Jiyong had done breaking down his walls and his head spun in alcohol effect, in things he couldn’t comprehend with his young mind, with his too bruised heart.

_You don’t have to be anyone else with me, hyung._

Jiyong snuggled closer to Seungri, finally had something to grasp, steady enough to sleep.

_Kwon Jiyong is enough for Lee Seunghyun._

Jiyong never told him but he recalled it everytime the downfall tugged him deep, that he’d hold onto Seungri’s whispers that night, that he’d cling shamelessly to Seungri’s soft wrecked voice, that he’d play the image in his head about his dongsaeng shielding him tight from the world.

***

“You look terrible.”

Jiyong didn’t have to look up to see the owner of that voice, he’d have it memorized for long.

“Long time no see,” he took another sip of his drink. “How’s life?”

“Shit,” Kiko shrugged. “As always.”

Jiyong smirked. “Heard you dumped your boyfriend, eh?”

“Kinda,” she still kept her hair short and her body skinny, her dress was green. “Heard a gossip about you doing the exact same thing too, though.”

Jiyong lit up a cigarette and watched it burn. “I didn’t dump him.”

“You sent him to another country after robbing a fame of him? That’s what in the magazine.”

“BIGBANG is _not_ Seungri’s fame,” Jiyong spat out the words and Kiko chuckled. “Seungri has his own and nobody will ever rob it from him.”

“Ah, protective boyfriend, aren’t you?”

“Watch your words, Mizuhara.”

Kiko smiled and it reminded Jiyong of the first time they met, before things happened and media play trapped them in a relationship they didn’t wish for, that they were more than ready and happy when it’s all over.

“I know what I’m talking about,” she sighed. “I’ve known you long enough to see the obvious, Kwon Jiyong.”

“Seungri is not mine. He can just go anywhere he wants.”

“That’s a lie,” she laughed, a glint of pity colored her eyes. “That’s _bullshit_.”

Jiyong didn’t answer to her but Kiko didn’t need him to say anything more. The look in Jiyong’s face was more than enough for her to wrap her arm around her friend’s shoulder.

“You’re stupid, Jiyong. If this is your way to protect him –”

“This is the only way,” Jiyong cut her sentence. “This is my only way.”

“What are you shielding him from?”

“Everything,” Jiyong said quietly. “Many things.”

“Jiyong,” Kiko patted his hair. “What if Seungri wants to get through it with you?”

“You don’t understand him.”

“I don’t,” Kiko told him the fact. “I just thought that maybe –”

“Seungri would do anything to save us,” Jiyong poured himself a drink, a liquor he hoped to give him an anchor. “Seungri would do everything to save BIGBANG, to save me.”

Kiko watched his friend crumbling down but she wasn’t sure if she could do anything to save him. It’s Jiyong’s decision and she didn’t know Seungri as much as Jiyong did.

“He would,” she said after a while. “Seungri would do anything to save you.”

“I can’t let him down,” Jiyong offered her a glass that Kiko politely took. “I already let everyone down by not saving the band.”

“It’s not your fault,” she patted his shoulder. “I’m sure they don’t blame you either.”

“I couldn’t _fucking_ come out with a reason. I couldn’t say anything when they shoved it in my face. They should’ve blame me, they should’ve hate me.”

“A reason for what?”

“For everything.”

***

It was one wonderful night in August, Jiyong was smiling and Seungri wore a black shirt and his ripped jeans. It was a small party in his house where Seunghyun brought every wine he could find and Youngbae scolded him for getting them all drunk and Daesung choked on the meat when Seunghyun argued but immediately tripped on the couch. It was just five of them because they already had bigger one last week and Jiyong swore he could still feel the taste of his birthday cake on the tip of his tongue.

It was just BIGBANG celebrating their anniversary a little late and everything went a little out of control because they’re just kids and would always be one in heart.

It was just them, or so Jiyong thought.

It was just a slightly drunk Youngbae carrying a sleeping Seunghyun with a half-drunk Daesung laughing behind him because he was supposed to help but couldn’t even stand properly. It was just Seungri shaking his head at his bandmates creating funny scenes, trying to reach the black car across the street, with their manager rolling his eyes from inside the vehicle. It was just Seungri smiling as Youngbae threw Seunghyun unceremoniously on the backseat, only to find a second later that Daesung had claimed the spot beside the driver. It was just Seungri waving to them and he looked so young, so happy, so sweet, so soft, so beautiful that Jiyong’s body took the action before his mind did.

It was just Seungri and Jiyong kissed him on the lips in the open air once.

It was just Jiyong kissed him, short and quick but not quick enough to avoid a snap from one camera of a media waiting nearby.

It was just Jiyong and Seungri and a beginning of disaster, one night in August.

***

 


	11. A Home, A Hope, A Hole Inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiyong is memories and it needs to stay that way.

Seungri wished to get rid of Jiyong’s shadow by dating some girls he knew. It didn’t work.

Seungri wanted to throw away his memories by drinking. It didn’t work either.

Seungri tried to bury down his feelings with loads of work. It never worked even once.

Seungri waited until the pain disappear, until it hurt less to breathe without Jiyong and the moments he felt better were when he let himself drown in a dream of things that would never happen.

***

“Seunghyun hyung invited you to the party, right?”

“Yeah,” Jiyong shrugs, his eyes are set on the TV. Seungri watches him instead, unconsciously grasping on the air between them. “He promised it’s gonna be great.”

Seungri smiles. “He always said that before throwing a party.”

“Then he’d get drunk the fastest and ended up sleeping _anywhere_.”

“Remember when we found him sleeping in Hyun Suk Sajangnim’s kitchen?” Seungri’s breath trapped in his throat as Jiyong turns to face him.

“And he tripped on him and they screamed like schoolgirls,” Jiyong smirks when their eyes meet. “They promised to kill everyone who ever spoke about it again.”

Seungri deludes himself with a grin on Jiyong’s face, like there were _never_ years of him wishing Jiyong would take him back. “It was funny, they should’ve let me talk about it once.”

Jiyong shoves him playfully and Seungri laughs. “You and your big mouth.”

“I learned from you, hyung.”

“You do it better than me, maknae.”

Seungri watches the smile disappears and his heart clings onto ashes of dreams.

“I’m sorry,” Jiyong says softly, his eyes shift back to the TV. “It was a long time ago.”

Seungri doesn’t answer as his hope fades into smoke.

***

Jiyong had warn him, the day he confessed.

“Love is not for me, Seungri,” his eyes were tired but they’re set on Seungri and it’s enough. “Love is not something I can give or receive.”

Seungri nodded, it wasn’t something he didn’t know. “Still, I love you.”

Jiyong had an expression –emotion –plastered on his face, the one kind Seungri didn’t understand about. It looked painful and Jiyong was struggling to say something.

But Seungri was quicker; he always was.

Jiyong’s lips were chapped, strong scent of cigarette lingered on his clothes, his hair were cut short, and his skin was dry but he didn’t move when their lips met.

“I won’t promise you anything, I can’t.”

_It’s okay_ , Seungri thought because Jiyong kissed him back, because those arms were wrapped around him.

_Just let me love you._

***

“I watched your shows,” Jiyong speaks after a while. “It was fun.”

“Yeah?” Seungri sighs. “I’m glad if you think so.”

“You always had a good guest. Always the most popular ones, huh?”

“You know…friends, _connections_ ,” Seungri shrugs. “About my talk show later, anything you want me to ask?”

Jiyong chuckles. “I thought it’s supposed to be a secret?”

“Kinda,” Seungri leans back on his seat. “You want it to be surprise?”

“What kind of surprise it might be? You know everything about me already.”

_I wish I knew. I want to know,_ Seungri closes his eyes. “What’s your new album about?”

“Heartbreak. What else?”

“Ah, _mellow_ Jiyong?”

He feels him shifting on his seat, maybe closer because it’s warmer.

“A bit ballad but yeah –just heartbreak songs.”

_Who broke your heart? Who owned your heart?,_ Seungri bites his lip to keep himself from asking.

***

Love is a river Seungri wants to cross, a sea Seungri is drowning into.

Love is a blade Jiyong pushes away with his bleeding hands, a sword he holds onto.

Love is a war they’re fighting for, a battlefield of them two.

***

“How about you?” Jiyong nudges him softly, like years ago when Seungri fell asleep on the carpet during their movie night. Jiyong was skinny and whiny so Seungri often teased him for not being able to carry him to bed.

“I don’t sing anymore,” Seungri’s mouth feels bitter, his tongue refuses to talk. “I have no songs.”

“I meant how life is –you seemed…good.”

“It was good, yeah,” Seungri blinks and Jiyong is too close. He can feel his eyes on him, those eyes Seungri loves so much when it’s looking at him, for him; when they met his on stage, when they’re closed in early morning, when it’s wide open as Seungri said something, when it’s hazy as they cuddled on the bed. “I’ve already had worst.”

“Seungri,” Jiyong’s finger curl around his wrist. “I’m sorry…about everything.”

Seungri always thought he wanted _apologize_. He wanted Jiyong to say sorry, to crawl to him, to beg Seungri to come back…

Seungri always thought he wanted Jiyong to regret ever letting him go.

_But it’s hurting him more now._

“Don’t,” he tries his best to speak. “Please.”

“I should,” Jiyong pulls him closer and his breath caresses Seungri’s face. “I have to, Seungri.”

“Don’t,” Seungri shakes his head. “This is hurting me.”

“I need to –”

“You need to go,” Seungri pushes him away. “You…want to go…right?”

Jiyong doesn’t even bother to tame his hurting pride. Seungri watches him walks away, counting the steps in his head.

“…Can’t we just talk about it?”

Seungri grits his teeth. “Will it make any difference?”

“What if –”

“We are four years too late to _talk_.”

“But –”

“It won’t change anything.”

***

“I don’t know,” Seunghyun wasn’t looking at him. “I don’t know what he was thinking about –”

“Does anyone ever?” Seungri zipped his suitcase shut. “What’s inside Kwon Jiyong’s head is his and his only, hyung.”

“I wish you don’t have to go.”

“It’s only a short plane ride,” Seungri shrugged. “You can come anytime.”

“I know,” Seunghyun sighed and he looked like he’s about to cry. “But it won’t be the same.”

“We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are. What would you do without me?”

_It’s just no more BIGBANG. No more ‘bandmates’,_ they didn’t speak out loud.

“Visit me, yeah?”

“Sure.”

 

Seungri watched things he loved became memories as the plane took off.

Memories were all Seungri had about Jiyong.

Memories were everything Seungri kept inside, tucked safely in between reality and daydream.

Memories were what glued him together again although it’s never the same anymore.

Memories were all Jiyong was.

***

“I don’t wish you to forgive me.”

“I have nothing to forgive about,” Seungri shakes his head. “It happened. It just happened.”

“I wish I could change everything.”

_Memories are all Seungri thought Jiyong is._

_He can’t let anybody take it away, not even Jiyong._

_Not with apology, not with sorry, nothing._

_If Jiyong wants to change things, Seungri will not let him._

_Because it’s what keep Seungri alive._

_It’s everything Seungri is._

“You can’t. There’s nothing you can change.”

Jiyong doesn’t move and Seungri doesn’t know what to wish about.

“I can’t change anything, Seungri. But maybe _we_ can.”

“What?”

“Maybe you can. Four years ago…”

He doesn’t know what’s worst; that Jiyong is getting closer or that his heart finds its beat again.

***

 


	12. Broken Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dream with heartbeats.  
> A forgotten dream.  
> A broken dream.  
> A dream.

When it’s spring, Seungri would be able to see cherry blossom trees from his apartment window. If he’s lucky, some pink petals would find a way to his balcony, laying there long enough for Seungri to touch until the next blow of the wind took them flying again.

It’s beautiful view, something that often sent his mind far away to the day when Jiyong promised him about date in the park.

To the sleepy voice, thick with cigarette and their next hit song against his nape.

_It’s beautiful._

Seungri knew that Jiyong was talking about walking under blossoming trees.

Not him.

_Never_ him.

***

“ _Four years ago_ ,” Seungri shakes his head, tears don’t spill but memories are scattered on the floor, threatening to piece themselves together again anytime. “It’s been four years, _Jiyong_.”

“But we never –”

“We _never_.”

Jiyong falls silent, but the tension screams loud enough for both of them.

“Hyung,” Seungri reaches for him, his heart dares to look at Jiyong and it hurts. Things are complicated and it hurts. “We can’t go back.”

Jiyong looks away as if he’s throwing away all the broken pieces laying in between them two. “We can’t.”

***

Seungri used to hear different kind of music, loved to hum to a song he didn’t fully understand about, blasting the melody through his iPod, pretending like he’s the best singer on earth.

“I’m surprised that you quit singing,” his friend sighed. “You seemed to like it _a lot_.”

Seungri laughed because he’s his old friend, the one used to trained together for dancing when he was so young, too young to understand that entertainment industry was not as good as it seemed.

“You can go back to dancing,” he teased him. “But I guess you’re too busy with the business, huh?”

Seungri grins. “Oh, you know, I dance every night.”

“Not in the club, Seunghyun.”

“I know, I was just kidding,” Seungri sipped his drink. “I am enjoying my life being an MC right now.”

“I see that,” his friend patted his back. “But you seemed to enjoy your life more _before_.”

“It’s just –”

“Bigbang?”

 

_It’s just singing means Jiyong._

_It’s just dancing means Jiyong._

_It’s just working in music means Jiyong._

_It’s just it was Jiyong, it’s still Jiyong._

_It’s just Jiyong._

_It was Jiyong._

 

“I don’t feel comfortable enough to sing by myself.”

 

_I can’t sing without remembering you._

_I can’t sing without you._

 

_I can’t listen to the songs without hearing you._

***

“It’s not working,” Seungri sighs.

“What’s not working?” Daesung asks, not so curiously, not so obviously.

“Jiyong hyung, I told him to go.”

“You needed that,” the lack of pause sends Seungri to frown.

“I need to push him out of my house?”

“Well, he left you this morning, at least this time you’re the one sending him to go?”

“What?”

Daesung laughs and Seungri hears his concern, like he always does because Daesung is just like that; the anchor and the wall. Their friendship started up cold but it’s something Seungri won’t trade for anything now. “I’ll come over, don’t kick me out.”

“Please,” is all Seungri says.

***

He was just a boy with dreams that too big, with lack of experience in singing compared to the others. He was just someone who tried to fit in the team. He was just another person who wanted Jiyong to look at him.

Because everyone did that.

He didn’t know how to dream quietly. He didn’t know how to not to tell everyone that Jiyong was great, how to stay silent when Jiyong praised him, how to not to beam with happiness when the leader nodded at his action, approving his decision. He couldn’t figure out any method not to be jealous when Jiyong told everyone to leave except Seunghyun, or when Jiyong laughed with Youngbae about something that happened before BIGBANG, or when he leaned on Daesung’s shoulder, arms wrapped around the muscular body. Seungri would pout, he would jump in the conversation. Seungri would tell everyone what he’d done today, what happened in his hometown, what’s his favorite jokes until Jiyong looked at him; until those pair of eyes set on him and words coming out from his mouth in form of teasing or laugher.

Seungri thought it was okay because everyone did that.

He thought _everyone_ did that.

“You’re so easy,” Seunghyun told him.

“I’m what?” Seungri forgot to add the honorific again and it usually earned him a smack but Seunghyun just laughed and shook his head.

“You’re so easy, maknae,” the oldest said again. “It’s all over your face.”

“What’s all over my face, hyung?”

“Jiyong,” Seunghyun grinned. “It says _Jiyong_ all the time.”

Seungri didn’t miss the quiet nod from Daesung who was reading a book beside him. “Jiyong hyung?”

“It’s okay, that’s kinda cute,” Seunghyun shrugged. “But Jiyong is a little bit complicated and that’s…maybe not so cute.”

Seungri frowned but then Seunghyun left the room and Daesung pretended like he’s lost in whatever he’s reading so Seungri didn’t ask.

He didn’t forget it either.

_Jiyong, all the time._

***

Daesung waits until Seungri finishes his wine. “Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Seungri shrugs. “Should I?”

“I don’t know,” Daesung sets their glasses on the table. “I just wish you would.”

“In some ways, yes,” Seungri says. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to about this.”

“You haven’t talked to me about anything.”

“Jiyong hyung,” Seungri sighs. “Is that not clear enough?”

“But you didn’t talk about him,” Daesung shakes his head when Seungri turns to look at him. “You never really talked about it to anyone, _Seunghyun_.”

Years of being _Seungri_ and silent agreement to call him the stage name in daily life to avoid any confusion with the other Seunghyun had made the word sounds weird to his ears. But Daesung is looking at him square in the eyes and Seungri has to admit that his hyung is right. He never did talk about how it happened, about what happened. He didn’t really tell anyone about Jiyong, about Nyongtory.

Part of him is still selfish enough to wish to keep in within himself no matter how much it’s going to hurt him inside.

Because Jiyong was his dream and he unconsciously thinks that it’s probably _still_ his dream.

“What do you really want to know?” when he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper. Seungri doubts that he’ll be able to stop; he’s not even sure if he’ll be able to start.

“Nothing more than you’re willing to say.”

Daesung isn’t a fan of skinship and Seungri cherishes every moment he touches him because Daesung is warm and is keeping him accompanied, to remind Seungri that he’s not alone, to pull Seungri out from being lonely even when he never told him about it.

“He was a dream,” he tells quietly, still it’s a loud thunder for his own ears. “He was my dream.”

Daesung pats his back softly, waiting. He’s so good in waiting and Seungri is beyond thankful.

“It was a dream that shattered,” Seungri swallows hard. His tears are pushing its way out, the air is being forcefully taken out from his lungs but somewhere deep in his chest, something is calming down. “It was a dream that told me to stop chasing.”

His hyung hums in no surprise. It’s not supposed to be a surprise either.

“He told me to leave but I don’t know how to not to dream about him.”

Back then when they were younger, Seungri often got confused of how Daesung could be so quiet and content with himself. Right now with him clutching onto the older’s presence, Seungri understands that Daesung is _an anchor_ ; that he is listening to what words cannot say, balance to a sinking ship.

“I don’t know Seungri who doesn’t dream about Jiyong hyung,” Daesung’s voice is soothing him. “Even now.”

“It’s a broken dream.”

“It’s still a dream.”

And Seungri asks question he realizes he’s been asking himself for years, “Is it still worth chasing?”

“Yes,” Daesung answers. The lack of doubt in his tone gives Seungri a reassuring comfort he’s been seeking. “Let’s give it a try.”

“I told him to leave.”

“He did that too.”

Seungri nods. “I should’ve listened to what he was going to say.”

“You’ll be meeting him again soon, right?”

“Yeah, the show…in two days,” his stomach churns at the thoughts of cameras and people’s eyes.

“Then you have time to think.”

“I shouldn’t ask him to come back _now_?”

“No,” Daesung laughs because Seungri’s eyes go wide in disbelief. Most of times, about Jiyong, Seungri is more than just an open book. “Think.”

“About what?”

“Dream,” the older man quickly corrects himself as he stands up. “Dream a lot.”

Seungri doesn’t say anything as they head to the front door.

“It’s still a dream, Seungri. He’s still your dream and _Seungri_ always dreams,” is Daesung’s word before he climbs inside his car.

“It’s a dream,” Seungri mumbles to himself. “A dream with heartbeats.”

***

 


	13. Breaking Habit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thought scares him. Because he wants so little, yet so much. Because what he wants probably not what people expect him to do.
> 
> “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I fucked up,” Jiyong says. There are walls he’s breaking and although Youngbae can’t see him, he feels so bare, so naked. “So bad.”

“You’re not calling me to tell me about _that_ , Jiyong.”

“No, I’m not,” he shakes his head. _You know about that already_. Morning comes through the window, people start owning the street with buzzing conversation. In front of him, his coffee stands on the table untouched. “I’m calling you, that’s all.”

There were years when they tried hard to figure out about each other. Then there were years when they didn’t even need a conversation to understand.

Youngbae sighs. “How bad now?”

“On what scale?”

“That you might cry?”

“That I won’t,” Jiyong hides his face with a hat when a young couple passes by his table. Sitting in a coffee shop is definitely not an ideal place to discuss his heart but Jiyong’s too fed up to go anywhere else. “That I can’t even cry anymore.”

“That’s _bad_ ,” Youngbae tells him; sadness plays in his tone of voice, he doesn’t even try to hide it anymore.

“He didn’t even want to hear me out.”

“Seungri will,” it almost brings a smile to Jiyong’s face, if only it’s not after four years of him running away from love. “He always does.”

“He doesn’t want to anymore, Youngbae.”

“Maybe just not now, Jiyong.”

“Time is ticking.”

“Then run after him,” Youngbae says. Jiyong forgets to calculate the time difference and that he realizes it must be late over Youngbae’s place –or not, he doesn’t really know where his bestfriend is –guilt finds its way to his stomach. “Run after Seungri.”

“I should’ve done that.”

“You can start now, right now.”

“Isn’t it too late?”

“Jiyong,” the married man sighs, again. “Run. _Love_.”

***

“You can’t keep doing that.”

“Doing what?” Jiyong scratched another lines on the paper, his nails were getting rotten due to the bites.

“Trying to break _him_.”

Jiyong rolled his eyes. It’s been 20 hours of sweating and squeezing his brain, he didn’t feel like having ridiculous talk with anybody, let alone Seunghyun. The older man was already considered lucky Jiyong didn’t give a shit about him pacing back and forth around the studio –Seunghyun called it dancing –for almost an hour now. Youngbae had excused himself as soon as Jiyong was done with him and Seungri was sleeping, sprawled on the sofa, mouth open and snoring softly.

“If there’s anything I want to break, it’s probably your legs.”

“Nu-uh,” Seunghyun started throwing crumpled papers at the maknae so Jiyong slapped him. “I’ll be mad and refuse to write. You will need my lines.”

“Then _fucking_ give it to me?” Jiyong hissed.

“Play nicely, Jiyong.”

He threw his pencil at him but Seunghyun managed to dodge it. “That was me being nice.”

Seunghyun yawned as he slumped down beside Seungri. The younger man was jolted awake, eyes scrunching as he adjusted to the light. “I was just trying to be hyung.”

“You’re _five_ , you can stop trying. That’s why we have Daesung and Mama Bae.”

Seunghyun pouted. “Ha ha funny.”

Jiyong snatched the paper from Seunghyun’s hand. “Go home, you look like shit.”

“Have you seen yourself?”

“Lots,” Jiyong kicked him playfully and Seunghyun rewarded him with a jab on his shoulder. “I just need to add your part then we’re done.”

“I’m done,” Seunghyun pointed to the maknae who was slowly drifting back to sleep. “Take him home.”

“Can you do that instead?”

“No,” Seunghyun shook his head. “You’re the leader.”

“I thought you finally got sense to act like the oldest member?”

“Yeah, but maknae is yours.”

Jiyong’s head shot up to look at him. Seunghyun was eyeing him in amusement, mischievous smile played on the corner of his lips and Jiyong suddenly felt small. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That he is yours and you shouldn’t try to break him.”

“Here we go again. Stop saying things that aren’t true.”

“Everyone with eyes can see that, Jiyong. You’re pushing the kid to his edge.”

“Why would I do that?” Jiyong growled. His hair was sticky with sweats and it’s uncomfortable.

“Because you like it? I don’t know. You have something there in your head that’s against _falling_.”

Jiyong swallowed and cursed lightly at the weather. “Why would I against it?”

Seunghyun stared at him for a minute that Jiyong thought he would say something, but in the end he just shrugged. “See you tomorrow.”

“Hyung?” Seungri’s voice was thick with sleep as Jiyong watched Seunghyun’s retreating back. “What time is it?”

Jiyong didn’t answer because the fear in his heart screamed thunder that’s so loud.

_I’m not falling…down, apart, or in love._

***

As much as he’s a _pro_ in writing love songs, Jiyong is also lost about loving.

_It’s a cage_ , he remembers telling himself when Seungri looked at him with eyes gleamed in tears of joy as they celebrated the maknae’s first win as solo. _Don’t get trapped._

He still finds it odd, still mesmerized by how years went by and his heart could barely register days passed other than wondering what Seungri would do or what Seungri might say.

_I miss you,_ Jiyong admits to the air accompanying him in solitude, just as what he had done since the day love walked away from his front door.

Love is not Jiyong’s forte but he doesn’t know how to give up either. Which is strange because Kwon Jiyong understands that some things just aren’t meant to be. Sometimes he just have to give up, surrender to inability of changing things, and _move on_.

_I should let him go, I’ve let him go,_ Jiyong whispers eventhough inside he knows he couldn’t.

His thumb lingers on the screen, doesn’t even hesitate when he taps on _call_ menu and Seungri’s number. He waits, and waits, and waits and nobody picks it up. Jiyong tries again. Once, twice, thrice, by the fourth he should’ve known already that he _must_ give up.

In the cold of his hotel room, love is still growing and nothing Jiyong can do about it.

***

“Don’t you dare looking at me like that,” Dami dropped her bags as soon as she closed the door. She wore _latest trend_ from head to toe but her eyes were angry. “Don’t you dare.”

Jiyong crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. “I won’t.”

“Stupid,” her voice resonated briefly through the house. “You’re stupid.”

“I am,” the younger admitted. “That’s the smartest thing I’ve ever done.”

“By hurting yourself?”

“Does it matter?”

Dami bit her lip, tears were choking her. “It matters to me. You matter to us, Jiyong.”

“Mom and Dad will understand.”

“Not them,” she took his hand in hers, squeezing so them both would be braver. “ _Seungri_.”

Jiyong didn’t need to wonder how his sister knew. They grew up together and there were a lot of things Jiyong had failed to cover up recently. _A lot_.

“Seungri is not part of it anymore.”

“Part of what? Your brain game?” Dami spat out, rage and sadness were thick in the air. “Is it a game for you?”

“Noona,” Jiyong looked at her. “It was supposed to be _just_ a game.”

***

“He’s probably sleeping,” his manager shrugs. “He’s _always_ busy.”

Jiyong nods. “Perhaps.”

“You want me to check on him?”

“No, it’s okay. Thanks for the car.”

“Anything else I can do for you?”

Jiyong shakes his head. “Do I have anything to do today?”

“No, nothing. Tomorrow though, you have appointment.”

“I do?”

“Yeah,” his manager laughs. “With Choi Seunghyun, who called me this morning to add his name on the list or else he’ll just rudely show up.”

“He could just call me? He didn’t even send me text or something!”

The manager shrugs. “That’s part of his antic, I suppose.”

“Maybe,” Jiyong sets the car keys on the table. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

“You didn’t. Please don’t.”

“I didn’t see media anywhere when I was drunk. But probably –”

“I got it covered up. Daesung helped a lot.”

“Ah,” Jiyong’s eyes cast down in shame. “I’m sorry.”

“Jiyong,” there’s patience that didn’t wear down through the years. “Maybe you should just let it be.”

“What?”

“Whatever you want.”

The thought scares him. Because he wants so little, yet so much. Because what he wants probably not what people expect him to do. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Think about it.”

***


	14. Puzzle Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What if…,” Seungri stares at the window. “…you didn’t kick me out?”

He was looking at him, waiting for scolding, instructions, corrections, except suddenly he wasn’t. He was looking at him past beyond all the words flooding from his mouth.

He was looking at him and the world faded.

“Are you listening, Seungri?”

Seungri blinked. “Yes, yes I am.”

Jiyong frowned at him. Beads of sweat trickled down on his cheeks. “You’re spacing out, maknae.”

Seungri braced himself for harsh words but it never came. Instead, Jiyong pulled him to stand up and patted his hair.

“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked eventhough he knew Seungri would never admit any weakness of him.

“No,” the younger said. He didn’t tell him how hard his heart thumping against his ribcage either. “I’m fine.”

***

“What if…,” Seungri stares at the window. “…you didn’t kick me out?”

His middle name is _crowd_. In people, Seungri finds comfort; a hiding place for all his emotions. Often under the spotlight he finds himself soaring with fake laughter.

Solitary makes him think. But then again, that’s what Daesung had told him to do.

He bounces on his feet, trying to shake his mind off of things he doesn’t really want to think about.

“What if you didn’t let me go?” he whispers to no one.

Just like that, his heart asks. _Did Jiyong really?_

“What if I never fell in love with you, hyung?”

Jiyong is the most beautiful _what if_ Seungri cannot really stop wondering about.

***

“You actually like my jokes,” Seungri grinned cheekily. Jiyong rolled his eyes and muttered _ridiculous_.

Seungri laughed. “Admit it, I caught you staring at me.”

“I’m staring at you,” Jiyong smirked and he did, staring at Seungri, two hands on the younger’s cheeks, distance so close their nose barely touching. “I like staring at you.”

“Why…is that?” Seungri didn’t stand a chance to pretend he wasn’t shaking.

“Because you’re looking at me too,” Jiyong pulled away.

“Everybody does that,” Seungri shrugged. “You’re G-Dragon.”

“You’re my number one fan.”

“I am.”

Jiyong patted his head. “Good. You’re special.”

Seungri beamed.

“I win the flirting game again,” Jiyong pulled away, watching the younger male’s smile turned to pout. “Why are you even _seungri_?”

“You can’t win me in _cuteness._ ”

“No, Seunghyun hyung already did.”

Seungri rolled his eyes. “He is the tallest three year-old. What’s so cute about it?”

“Daesung in second place.”

“He is,” Seungri huffs in frustration. “Fine, I’m on third place.”

“Oh? Says who?”

“You’re not going to put Youngbae-hyung right after that Doraemon-hyung, are you?”

“No,” Jiyong grinned. “I was going to put myself.”

“What part about you is considered _cute_?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Jiyong’s hand came to rest on Seungri’s thigh; casually because it’s a habit already. “You’re the one pestering me anywhere with those panda eyes.”

“Fine, I will stop doing that,” Seungri knew better than to argue.

“Oh? Really?”

“Yes,” Seungri reached for his abandoned phone. “Really.”

“You can’t,” then lips were pressed against Seungri’s, in a manner and warmth that took Seungri’s breath away, his next word ended up against Jiyong’s mouth. It wasn’t rude. It was just quick; too quick for Seungri to figure out _why_ because the next moment, Jiyong was already standing up and ready to leave for whatever life he had _other than_ Seungri. “You won’t.”

Seungri didn’t say anything because as much as he’s Jiyong’s, Jiyong was never his.

***

_“Is there anything you want to tell me about?”_

_Jiyong was looking at the ceiling, at the blue blanket they used to fight for, at the table where they had played childish tic-tac-toe game last month, at Seungri’s clothes, folded neatly in his suitcase; at anything but Seungri. “Nothing.”_

_“Hyung,” Seungri wasn’t sure if there’s anything left to hold; he’s breaking to his end. “Not even goodbye?”_

_“No,” but he’s reaching for Seungri’s wrist. “I can’t tell you goodbye, you know that.”_

_Seungri closed his eyes because he knew. Jiyong’s parting ways would be documented in his songs, hidden in thousand lyrics, buried in a beautiful melody but never a word of goodbye._

_And Seungri should’ve known that he wasn’t an exception. That he wasn’t the one._

_“Then goodbye,” his voice failed him miserably. He didn’t care, why would he?_

_Jiyong finally looked at him and for a brief moment, Seungri forgot that they’re parting ways. “I won’t say goodbye.”_

_But Seungri thought Jiyong had said it the loudest._

***

Seungri thought he had done everything to forget. He had tried his best to forget, to move on, to put what’s past as past.

One he never tried was letting go.

Seungri thought he did. With constant thoughts of Jiyong, with constant heartbeats that missing him, he thought he was clinging too tight. He thought his mind was begging to stay.

But he didn’t, it wasn’t. All he had done was actually just standing there.

All the chanting to himself, mantras he put all over his steps to not to fall again was actually a rope to make him stay, if that even made any sense.

**_Dream._ **

Seungri just need to close his eyes and there are tons of pieces, gleaming and not, blinking and hot, awaiting to be touched. He didn’t dare to do that for the past four years, always shaking his head, drowning himself in phone calls and appointments, making ridiculous excuses to put up walls between himself and his thoughts.

It’s his way to move on and to make sure, that Jiyong would still be there, pushed to the back of his mind, never be his priorities again.

Or so he wished.

Once or twice in a month or even year, he’d allow himself to walk around, placing steps amongst the scattered hopes from his past, watching them reaching to be remembered by him. At night, he’d let the sea surface dragged him in, drowning him in jumbled thoughts.

But he didn’t touch them. He didn’t scoop them in his hands and piece them back together inside him, fitting the hole it dug before. He never got them back to the places they’re supposed to be. It’s scattered and stayed like that for years. Always in the same place; always in the same way Jiyong left it to be.

Seungri thought he was moving on in tiny steps; that for every piece he didn’t remember anymore, he was forgetting.

He was just scared.

“Stupid,” he mutters to himself, laughing at the creative mess he had done. If he puts them back together, will he stand a chance to break it by himself? To finally tell himself that he _can_ also let go of Jiyong?

**_Whatever was broken_.**

He thinks of things he should’ve told him.

_I love you, I miss you, I’m sorry_ , and Jiyong’s favorite; _I’m yours_.

He thinks about the smile he didn’t see anymore, about the black circles under Jiyong’s eyes, about his stares that seemed dull.

**_About what had happened._ **

He can’t think of _how_ or _when_. As far as he can recall, Jiyong told him to _go_. He’d done anything to stay. Jiyong never said anything more. The night he asked Seungri to leave was the night he declared the _love_ or whatever that might be because Jiyong used to resent of being in love.

_Jiyong never said that he didn’t love him. Never._

Seungri thinks he’s going insane. For four years, he’s been running from the question ‘why’. He’s been pushing back the thoughts that Jiyong _might_ love him too at some point. He couldn’t ask Daesung, or Youngbae, or Seunghyun, or anyone else, and least of all; himself.

Because Jiyong wouldn’t answer that.

Was he too scared to ask because he’d understand the answer?

Because him too, would have no more reason to stay?

 

If Jiyong told him how it went wrong, how would it be?

What would them be?

 

_Dream **.**_

So he finally does. And it feels surprisingly warm and _familiar._

Too familiar that he doesn’t hear the buzzing from his phone.

***

 


	15. Poignant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how well educated a man is, one will never shrink away from glimmer of hope. It doesn’t matter if you’re suffering cancer, or jobless, or starving, or lost; when someone tells you there’s chance, you’ll strive for it despite the risks it might bring.

No matter how well educated a man is, one will never shrink away from glimmer of hope. It doesn’t matter if you’re suffering cancer, or jobless, or starving, or lost; when someone tells you there’s chance, you’ll strive for it despite the risks it might bring.

That’s how Jiyong found himself, in ripped jeans and worn out Vans’ shoes, standing in front of Yang Hyun Suk’s office. He knew better than bothering his boss –or even worse, his old friend –with disaster to come, but he was the only person he could think of other than Seungri.

Oh, how Jiyong wished things were different and he would be squeezing his brain out to win Seungri in stupid tic-tac-toe game on their coffee table.

He knocked, twice.

“Jiyong?” Yang Hyun Suk was wearing his casual shirt, without his usual hat. He was working until late again, but it’s normal in their industry; in life they chose to be. “Are you in trouble?”

Was it his lack of smile or his slumped shoulder, Jiyong didn’t know. He had had enough of things his mind refused to process about.

“I guess I am.”

“Are _you_ the trouble?”

“Yes,” Jiyong didn’t even hesitate. “I certainly am.”

“Come in.”

***

“Do you like it?”

Jiyong tried his best not to smile. “ _This_?”

“Yeah,” Seungri’s eyes trailed the movement –waving –of paper Jiyong was holding. “I _kinda_ tried.”

“To write a song?”

“Not a song yet,” Seungri’s bangs were a bit longer now he didn’t make time to see their hairstylist yet. “Just _words_.”

“Words?” Jiyong placed the sheet between them, finger dancing on dried ink of lines and dots. “Pretty sure I am seeing _melodies_ too.”

Seungri shrugged. “I had vision for the chorus.”

“Only for the chorus?”

The younger man nodded. “Will you look at it?”

“I am.”

“I mean like…maybe…making it into something?”

“By something you meant song?”

“Anything,” Seungri pushed the paper back to Jiyong’s hand. “I trust you.”

Jiyong fought the urge to ask _why_.

 

It was twenty-seven lines Jiyong made into a song the day Seungri officially moved to Japan, the song he insisted on putting in his new album. It’s a heartbeat Jiyong dared to show up to everyone and maybe, if he’s lucky, Seungri.

***

Jiyong claps his hands while laughing. Choi Seunghyun walks through his hotel door at 8.21, nine minutes early than their actual appointment at 8.30.

“Did you accidentally set your alarm wrong or today is apocalypse?”

Seunghyun smacks his head. “Shut up.”

“Yeah, Mr. Artholic,” Jiyong snickers. “What do you want?”

“Sleep, honestly,” Seunghyun yawns shamelessly. “I barely survived the _talking_.”

“What talking?” Jiyong throws him pack of cigarette. There are habits they can’t really quit.

“Whatever talking was that about,” Seunghyun shrugs. “It was supposed to be an afternoon meeting but it seemed a lot like a class in high school.”

“That everyone was listening quietly and taking notes?”

“Exactly.”

Jiyong laughs. “And here I thought you’re coming for a _talk_.”

“And you’ll be the one listening and taking notes, Jiyong.”

“No, I won’t. Why didn’t you just tell me you’re coming instead of booking appointment with my manager?” Jiyong watches Seunghyun throws himself unceremoniously on the bed. “That man already has a lot in his to-do list.”

“Because you’d probably run away. Don’t lie,” Seunghyun snaps before Jiyong can tell him _no_. “You need to face it, Jiyong.”

“Who? You?”

“Seungri,” Seunghyun sighs. “But first of all, yourself.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You need to start admitting _things_.”

“What things?”

“That you’re actually totally visibly clearly attached to the poor maknae.”

“I _am_ the maknae here, Seunghyun- _hyung_.”

“Ah, I forgot we’re not a team of five anymore.”

“Seunghyun –”

“It was us and it will always be us,” the older man looks like he’s been waiting forever to say that. Probably Jiyong too, because he feels the pang of guilt in his stomach.

“I’m sorry.”

“You better be,” Seunghyun hums. “Because I’m not done yet.”

“Go on.”

“Seriously,” Seunghyun shakes his head. “How did Seungri manage to keep up with you?”

 ***

Seungri tasted like freedom.

Like summer breeze, when the air spoiling him with promises that it would be warmer, that he no longer needed to put layers and layers of extra clothes around him to hide from the cold.

_Or from the world._

 

“It’s me,” Seungri would always say whenever Jiyong got startled with his sudden presence around. “It’s _just_ me.”

And Jiyong would sit back and relax, absorbing blisters in his heart for another rejection he received or compliment he didn’t think he deserved. When Seungri was around, the world seemed to slow down a bit, allowing Jiyong to catch up with today’s news, with oxygen, with controversies he couldn’t fathom. There were many and more things Jiyong couldn’t wrap his head around, no matter how people speculated him to be a genius. So many things that suddenly made sense simply when he was with Seungri.

Because Seungri was _surprisingly_ simple.

Sure, he was a little bit too friendly with everyone, a businessman in tailored suit and shiny polished shoes. He was two years younger than Jiyong with jokes about as old as his grandpa. But Seungri was simple and _sound_.

_You think too much when you’re alone, so be thankful for Seungri the savior_.

That’s what he would text Jiyong whenever he’s coming for sleepover. Or dinner. Or just coming.

 

So if people ask him about what he missed the most of Seungri, Jiyong would laugh and shake his head.

_Nothing_ , he’d answer.

They told him it’s a lie.

Because nothing made sense without Seungri and Jiyong knew very much not to tell anyone about it.

***

“You fucked up years ago.”

Jiyong laughs. “As if it’s not visible enough, Seunghyun.”

“Someone needs to say that to your face.”

“You just did, thank you. Go on.”

“I’m done.”

“Excuse me?”

Seunghyun scratches his head. “I can have long speech about what you should do, what you should’ve done, about what you’ve done. I just choose to not to.”

“I don’t mind speech.”

“Well, _I_ do.”

Jiyong rolls his eyes and smacks himself mentally. “What a wise man you are, Seunghyun.”

“I’m not but I didn’t fuck up shit with Seungri.”

“ _Fuck_ you.”

Seunghyun lit up his cigarette. “What I meant was that you screwed up. But that’s it. You did and you can’t go back to past. However, Seungri is here, now, in a life of a mess you’ve put him into.”

“I tried to save him from that _mess_.”

“You think I misunderstood the sparkle in your eyes whenever you talked about him? You think anyone would _ever_ misunderstand how much you like him?”

Jiyong closes his eyes, pain rushing in his veins. Not the kind of pain when he fell down the stairs. Not the kind of pain when he let the cold water from shower touched his body. It’s a dull pain that beats along with Jiyong’s heart. It’s the pain that always there, claiming his body like paints, in thousand shades of grey he couldn’t get rid of.

“Jiyong?”

“I love him,” Jiyong says, calm and quiet storm. “I love him so much.”

“Then why?”

Jiyong inhales deeply but air betrays his lungs. He’s choked with his own secrets. “ _That’s_ why.”

“The _why_ is what Seungri deserves to hear about.”

“I should’ve been careful.”

“No,” Seunghyun disagrees, looking at Jiyong past the smoke he exhaled. “You should’ve been stupid enough to tell him.”

“So that he’ll suffer?”

“Oh, Jiyong. That kid suffered a lot without you…not when he’s with you.”

“Seunghyun –”

“Seungri deserves to know why did you do that.”

“And do _you_ know?”

Seunghyun shrugs. “I might get curious enough and asked someone.”

“You –”

“But _you_ can tell me what happened too. A story that might be different than what I’ve heard.”

“What did you hear?”

Seunghyun doesn’t smile, but his eyes have hope. “Tell me things I might not know _yet_.”

So Jiyong begins.

***


	16. Finding Journey

If a person has flavor, Jiyong’s must be strong coffee with crumbs of honey bread. He’s sweet and bitter but in opposite end of each other that you can’t tell which one is the real Jiyong, until you have a taste and see with your own two eyes that the collision is a whole complicated process of serving tea; authentic and mesmerizing.

***

“You’re spacing out,” it was a hot day. With a little miracle and persistency, they were finally granted a week off. Seungri was wearing his home suit –white tight shirt and shorts.

“I was thinking,” Jiyong blinked then yawned.

It, Seungri noticed, was the third time in 2 minutes. “You didn’t sleep?”

Jiyong shrugged. “I guess I’m just bored.”

“Let’s go out then?” quickly bounced to his feet, Seungri thought of things they could do and places to visit. He hadn’t show him his latest interest, hadn’t tell him yet about his newfound plan.

“No,” Jiyong tugged on his sleeves, pulled him back to sit beside him. His head moved lazily to lay on Seungri’s shoulder, wet against his thin clothes. “We should just stay here.”

“I thought you’re bored?”

Jiyong hummed. “Just stay with me.”

He should’ve realized that Jiyong never said they should be home.

***

“What’s wrong with you, hyung?”

Jiyong stumbled right into his arms, gripping tight. “I don’t know.”

Seungri frowned. It wasn’t the first time he witnessed Jiyong came home drunk, it certainly wasn’t the last time either, he’s sure. But something was off. The way Jiyong talked, the way words slurred out from his mouth, the way his eyes avoided Seungri’s.

“Is it about the disbandment?”

They had talked, they had decided, they had planned it together. If there’s something Seungri was so sure about, it wasn’t his relationship with Jiyong; it was his bond with his bandmates. And Jiyong had known about it, long before the others did, even longer before the President.

BIGBANG was Jiyong’s heart, despite his struggle against it in the beginning. It’s in Jiyong’s head, within his fingertips and ran in his veins like blood.

“Maybe,” Jiyong lifted his face to see Seungri. “I hate parting ways.”

Seungri should’ve known that Jiyong wasn’t talking about disbandment at all.

***

Jiyong slipped like water. He was a flood Seungri didn’t manage to escape then one day he’s nothing but droplets.

And Seungri couldn’t catch him, not even a single part of him because Jiyong had planned it like that.

He should’ve understand.

***

“You think I wouldn’t know?”

Jiyong remained silent, admiring his burning cigarette without actually tasting it.

Seungri choked on his own breath. “Why are you avoiding me, hyung?”

Jiyong reached for him and it’s their first touch in a month because Jiyong needed to go overseas for his fashion business and what not. Seungri waited for his first sentence because Jiyong hadn’t talk to him for that long too.

“I don’t know,” Jiyong’s voice was small and he snuggled to Seungri’s embrace like it was the safest place he knew.

Seungri should’ve seen the tears through the smoke surrounding them like a blanket.

***

“Are you nervous?”

Jiyong shrugged. “Are you?”

Seungri watched the make-up _noonas_ running around them like bees, a man with walkie-talkie tripped on Youngbae’s abandoned shirt on the floor, Daesung entertained their hairstylist with his choreography for _Look At Me, Gwisoon_ , two of their managers taking pictures of food sent by VIPs, Seunghyun who just emerged from the bathroom to take his phone then running back to the stall in hurry, and finally at Jiyong.

“Yes,” he said. “I am.”

“Me too,” Jiyong smiled bitterly. “Last stage, Seungri.”

“It was nice to work with you, G-Dragon.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

“Why not?” Seungri shrugged, their break-up still all around him like rope. “I wasn’t a nice bandmate?”

“I don’t say goodbye,” Jiyong shook his head. “I can’t.”

Seungri turned around and didn’t see Jiyong reached for the empty spot he just walked away from.

***

Once, Seungri had a nightmare.

Jiyong was a caterpillar he couldn’t keep in a jar, no matter how hard he tried. So he let him be, watched it crawled on the floor, on his desk, under his blanket, or sometimes along Seungri’s arms.

One day, it’s suddenly disappeared and Seungri’s heart slowed down as he looked around. World had change color into ugly orange, there were fallen stars scattered on the ground like fire.

Under an abandoned tree, he found a cocoon.

So Seungri waited and waited for days, for the only friend he had to return.

He had hoped that this time, it would stay. Not in a jar, not in a box, just _stay_ with him.

Seungri forgot that butterflies had wings.

***

_Tell me your secret._

Seungri’s thumb lingered on the display of date the text been sent to him. Sender name display had been changed thousand times, depending on his mood, but this final time it’s clearly written _Kwon Jiyong._

Years, tears, memories, and so many secrets had been said and shared already. But today, as he pressed _delete_ , he would keep the last one. The only one he would take with him, the one he could make a space for.

 _You_ , he whispered. His flight was soon to be boarding.

He wrapped his secret in a piece of broken heart, carrying it along like a weapon although he knew best that in time, it’d be the only comforter he needed.

Seungri vowed he would never tell anyone, the secret he wanted to be part of, the love he could never let go.

***

_Why?_


	17. Reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are no excuses in breaking hearts, only reasons.  
> You can't break a heart, its always two of them.

It’s the day they’re supposed to meet. Seungri holds his cue cards tight, his hair is being done.

He didn’t see him coming. It’s when he turned around and their gazes met.

Jiyong looks at him. For the first time in four years, his eyes seemed giving up.

And for the first time in four years, Seungri’s are full of determination.

***

“Your new album,” Seungri starts. He is holding Jiyong’s new album, the cover colors gold with splashes of red because that was what Jiyong thought as view of heartbreak. _Rich and bleeding._ “Can you explain to us about it?”

Seungri holds his gaze upon him, Jiyong wants to break apart.

“FALLEN,” Jiyong says but answers are trapped in his throat, escaping his fuzzy brain. “Is all about heartbreaks.”

“Interesting,” Seungri tells the audience and he smiles. “Who dare to break G-Dragon’s heart?”

The girls in front row laugh, Seungri seems to please with himself. That alone gives Jiyong a little pump he thinks he can hold onto until the show is done.

“It’s been four years since your last activity as a singer,” the disbandment still tastes bitter in his tongue, but Seungri fights. “How does it feel to _come back_?”

“Nervous,” Jiyong shrugs. “Like this is my first time.”

“But this isn’t. You’ve had solo activities before.”

“Yeah,” Jiyong’s smile falter but Seungri’s gaze has shifted to the square in his hand, finger tracing the cover quietly. “But this one is different.”

“Why?”

“It has ten songs and all of them are about heartbreaks.”

Seungri hums eventhough Jiyong doesn’t answer the question.

***

“Can I ask you something, hyung?” Seungri’s voice was soft and there’s _fear_ in it that was visible enough for Jiyong to see; to sense.

“Sure,” Jiyong put his pen down. Seungri’s hair was a bit long and Jiyong thought of what hairstyle would suit his –their –new song he’s working on, the one titled _Blue_. “What is it, maknae?”

Seungri looked hesitant. “When you write down all the _sad_ songs –”

“You don’t like it?” Jiyong cut him in because he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the idea of Seungri not liking his _sad_ songs; Jiyong couldn’t take the thought of Seungri _not liking him_.

“No, it’s not _it_ ,” Seungri was quick to answer, he’s in _urgent_ to ask. “I want to ask if that’s because you want to _forget_ or because you want to _remember_ … _them_.”

To be honest, Jiyong didn’t know why; never thought of _why._ Jiyong wore his scars the way he wore his tattoos; carved in black bold ink on his skin, hidden beneath his shirt but visible enough if you looked closely. Jiyong loved the rough edges of his broken heart, owned every piece of it proudly.

Jiyong embraced his scattered heart with drinks and cigarettes; there were just never reasons of it.

“Maybe both.”

_Maybe._

***

“Ten songs,” Seungri reads his cue cards. “The first one is _Great Wall_ , can you tell us about it?”

Jiyong thinks of million thoughts trapping him inside the cocoon of Seungri’s constant presence that lingers upon his studio, crushing him like damaged ghost looking for things he should be forgotten.

“Heartbreak builds walls around you,” he tells him. Seungri waits for his next words, like he used to do whenever Jiyong spoke. “Walls that closing in.”

“ _Closing in_?”

“You can’t escape.”

“Of heartbreak? You’re supposed to move on.”

_Of love,_ Jiyong can’t say. He had let his slipped away.

Seungri, on the other hand, grips hope.

***

“You look… _stupid_ , yes.”

Jiyong raised his head from resting against the coffee table. “What?”

“You, _oppa_ , look stupid,” Chaerin grimaced.

“Who cares?”

“Me?”

“But not the industry. I make good music when I’m _horrible_.”

_And he was beyond terrible._

She entered the booth and adjusted her earphones. “By _stupid_ , I wasn’t talking about that dirty teeth of yours. Seungri –”

“I’m older. Sing your lines.”

Chaerin shook her head. “It’s a sad song. It doesn’t suit my voice well.”

Jiyong bit his nail. “Remember _Goodbye_?”

He could be a dick when he wanted to. That’s just how Jiyong was and she knew better not to dwell on the sudden emotion swept through her.

“I know parting ways so well,” she sighed. “If that’s what you meant.”

“Sing,” Jiyong tapped the music on.

***

Seungri is wearing a suit and Jiyong sinks in his jeans. His skin tingles with doubts because reality is Seungri within reach when in his mind, Seungri is just as far as another galaxy.

If Seungri is a star then he’s not falling for Jiyong to wish upon.

He’s the one blinking at night, the one will disappear when morning comes as Jiyong wakes up from restless sleep.

 

“The fifth song, _Pardon_ ,” Seungri’s voice is still the kind of tone Jiyong had the hardest time to figure out where to put at.

“Excuses,” Jiyong answers before Seungri asks. “Thousand excuses.”

“For what?” the younger man flips the booklet to look for the lyrics. Jiyong watches frown claiming his feature as he reads the words.

“For breaking hearts.”

Seungri’s mouth parts to say something but sentences die in his chest because _Pardon_ is lines he wrote years ago, one Jiyong said would never be a song, melodies Seungri thought had died along with everything else ever happened between them, unspoken letter he never needed to put title on.

“It’s not about excuses,” is all he manages to say before their audience begins to murmur in confusion of silence. “It’s more like reasons.”

“There are no reason to break hearts,” Jiyong knows none. “It’s only excuses,” Jiyong knows lots.

“Does it matter? Either you do it for that person or that you do it for yourself?”

“You can’t break _a_ heart,” Jiyong’s voice waver but it strikes through Seungri. “It’s always _two_ of them.”

 

It feels like a promise.

_Or long forgotten truth._

***

“Do you like me a little bit more today?”

Jiyong patted his cheeks. “Go home, maknae.”

“Do you like me?”

“Yes, yes I do,” Jiyong scribbled and scratched another word. Sentences colliding in his brain, alphabets tumbling against each other like wrecked train. “Now go home.”

“If you really like me, you’ll take me home.”

“I’m working, Seungri,” he snapped. His pencil flew across the table, the paper went to the bin. “I have deadlines.”

“I love you,” Seungri didn’t flinch. His head rested on the armrest of Jiyong’s sofa bed.

“So?”

“So,” Seungri yawned. It’s been two days since Jiyong laid his body on the bed –or any proper surface that allowed him to rest. “I’ll take you home.”

Jiyong rolled his eyes.

“Later,” Seungri added. “When you’re done.”

“Just go home.”

“Shhh, I’m sleeping.”

“Listen to your hyung, will you?”

“I do. You said you like me.”

“That was –”

“That was enough.”

 

“I love you,” Jiyong whispered when Seungri was already snoring. Nobody heard it but he felt like helium.

Those three words ended up all over the next paper, one he folded into heart shaped origami and tucked in between his credit cards, a week after Seungri’s confession.

***


	18. Mercy

Seungri waited. He had been waiting for hours.

Jiyong’s door snapped open and in those red eyes, he looked for the worst yet wishing for the best.

“Thank you,” Jiyong finally said, lips parted to meet his. “You can sleep here if you want.”

Seungri knew he would always love Jiyong’s way to _confess_ to him, the way _I love you_ was never one of them

***

Seungri will always associate the word _maybe_ with Jiyong.

_Maybe he will look at me today_ , he thought to himself when Jiyong walked passed him in the corridor.

_Maybe he will talk to me later_ , he whispered as Jiyong put his headphones on.

_Maybe he will let me in, maybe he will ask me to come in._

_Maybe he will be around, maybe he will tell me to come around._

“Maybe you’ll let me love you,” he said. Jiyong’s lips were warm against his palm. “Maybe you’ll love me too.”

Jiyong’s eyes were shining as he wrote his heart out.

“There’s no maybe. I love you, Seungri,” the words hit him hard as Jiyong’s forehead being pressed against his, the day Seungri flew out from their shared apartment.

 

Jiyong is sitting across him today, now, in a red shirt that matched his newest album cover. Black scarf is around his wrist, his short white hair stands out amongst the blinded lighting in the set. As he reads another part of Jiyong’s newest song, he can’t help but wonder of another _maybe_.

_Maybe, you too._

***

Jiyong had his own light, he owned the spotlight. For years, Seungri ashamedly basked in it, drowning himself in the fire.

The day Jiyong called them off, Seungri went blind. Curtain closed and everything around him becoming pitch black.

He took his own matches and lit himself up with fame. Between new days and busy business, he found himself able to shine too. His friend would praise him; for treating them nicely, for old jokes he never run out of. For many things he had done for stuff they’re able to do because of him too.

But when night comes and he’s shining the brightest, Seungri couldn’t help but wishing to see Jiyong, to feel the heat he possessed like blanket. He wondered what Jiyong might be doing as their life rotated different places and time seemed to never bring them together ever again.

 

In an endless sky, a star missed the sun, that couldn’t be seen during night, when he shone the brightest.

***

“The last one,” Seungri _tries_ to say. The tension is choking him, Jiyong’s presence both keeping him sane and out of his mind. “ _Deceit_.”

Jiyong laughs in a fake way Seungri will always recognize everywhere –although he pretends he doesn’t. “ _Ah_ , it’s my personal favorite.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s _personal_.”

“How?”

Seungri knows by heart the ethics of his shows, the rules of most talk show. He’s been an MC for many times, has been recognized as one of the best recently. It doesn’t stop himself from having messy thoughts of Jiyong, it doesn’t prevent him from hoping everything to be back to where it used to be.

“It’s a song based on personal experience,” Jiyong smiles. “If you read the lyrics and listen to –”

“A lie,” Seungri says before he can stop himself. His heart is pounding too hard against his ribcage that he’s afraid it’ll jump out anytime soon. But his biggest fear now is that Jiyong might disappear right before his very eyes before he can ever have a chance to hold him once again. “It’s about a lie, I’m reading it.”

“Well…it is.”

“ _Why_?”

“Eh?”

“Why did you lie?”

“Oh –”

“What kind of lie? Or _lies_?”

Jiyong smiles, a little bit too wide for Seungri’s liking, because he knows how to play the game of fame too. “It was a long time ago.”

“Does it matter?” Seungri’s palms are sweating. It’s too loud because the fans are cheering up, chanting Jiyong’s name. Some are holding _fansign_ ; bright with colors, full of words. Seungri’s mind is empty but his veins pulsating in rude manner. “Lie is lie.”

“Seungri.”

The thunder in his ears stops. Jiyong’s eyes are fixed on him, he is holding Seungri’s hand.

_Why did he reach for him?_

_Where did he drop his cue cards?_

_Since when they’re speaking in Korean instead of Japanese?_

“It was a long time ago,” Jiyong repeats himself, this time, softer; _to Seungri_. “It matters, yes.”

“Because you can’t fix it?”

“Because I should,” Jiyong says. Syllables hang in the air like cloud, under the thick confusion Seungri finds no rainbow. “I should.”

Jiyong seems so small Seungri fears he might slip between his fingers _again_. So he reaches with his free hand, one that isn’t in Jiyong’s hold, to have a grip on him. The audiences cheer because it’s been long since they interact _openly_ in public but all Seungri sees is Jiyong’s furrowed eyebrows and his earring that shaped of an eagle.

“You should,” he isn’t sure to whom he’s talking. Jiyong is listening, as well as hundreds pair of eyes through the cameras and televisions. “You could.”

“I could,” Jiyong is trembling in his hold but Seungri isn’t letting go. He doesn’t let Jiyong sink into memories again, _no_. He can’t let him be in his drawer anymore, threatening to jump out anytime from their old photographs. He won’t let Jiyong go this time. Above all, he won’t let _himself_ go this time.

So he squeezes Jiyong’s arm, still firm but thinner, shifting closer. “You can.”

Jiyong blinks but Seungri sees future.

***


	19. Crawling Under My Skin Like Memories

After that day, he couldn’t really picture him clearly; which side of his lips would curl up first when he smiled, if he loved the blue scarf more or the red one, how many eyelashes he had. The layer of separation grew hazier by time and on one Tuesday morning he found himself hastily rummaging through his drawer for a piece of thin paper already losing colors on its edge. It was his gift when they managed to sneak up a day to go to the amusement park. His heart pounded in his chest when the rollercoaster ride went up high but Seungri’s palm were pressed against the back of his hand. _Let go_ , the younger said, his voice unsettled. Even as he gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, he held Jiyong’s hand tightly to give him comfort.

He finally found the photograph sandwiched between his books. It was taken in the photobooth Seungri insisted to try. He was afraid if they would be recognized but Seungri didn’t have it. They had four shots and Jiyong had made the same pose for each pic with Seungri doing the opposite. Many years had passed, it’s barely visible to see through the stained colors and blurred lines but it helped him to picture back the image of him –most of it, the one he used to be able to catalog even in his dreams.

Jiyong thought of it as his punishment, that he was cursed forever to never be able to map Seungri’s jawline, or recalling which finger he’d prefer his ring to be, or when was Seungri’s last dentist appointment. He was able to see his smile, the way his head titled back when he laughed but he couldn’t hear the words Seungri mouthed to him as if he’s forbidden to remember promises he couldn’t keep.

***

Seungri hands him the microphone. Carved on it is his stage name, G-Dragon, twinkling gold. Jiyong mutters a _thank you_ , the warmth of Seungri stays for a while in his grip.

“What song are you going to sing for us today?”

Jiyong looks at his fans. The triumph of being on top of the world had left him ages ago, news and scandals had buried him under weight of an idol. Today, however, he finds it return to his brain, peeks in between his veins, pumping adrenalines like it’s _never_ gone. He smiles and turns to Seungri.

“What do you want me to sing?”

***

Seungri’s keys were heavy. It has a keychain attached to it, shaped of a panda, made of porcelain. One of its ears was gone when Seungri accidentally dropped it six months ago. Jiyong traced the black part of its eye, wondered where did Seungri’s go. When was the last time he teased him about it? When was the last time he kissed Seungri’s closed eyes, scolded him lightly for being _too_ businessman?

The day Jiyong made the duplicate, it was simply because they were going to live together. Because they had different things to do and it’s better for them to have one for each so they wouldn’t bother each other. Since when it changed into him waiting for clicking sound and Seungri’s light footsteps as he tip-toed, afraid of waking him up? Since when he didn’t care of where his keys were because Seungri would not mind to take him home?

He carried it with him, tangled with his own set of keys. When he unlocked his door, he imagined Seungri would sneak up behind him, beat him to get the left side of the bed. When he set the keys on the counter, he knew he wouldn’t let him in.

Maybe he wanted Seungri to turn away and gone.

Maybe he wanted Seungri to knock.

***

His legs are glued to the floor. Too many thoughts refusing to leave his mind, yet there are only few words making its way to his lips.

“Anything?”

Jiyong shrugs. “Anything. Which one is your favorite?”

_Every single thing of you_ , Seungri realizes. No matter how hard he wished, he would never bring himself to run away. Standing in front of him is the man he thought was gone but always filling the spaces in his heart, the emptiness between his fingers. There is place in him that belongs to Jiyong, always.

“ _Black_ ,” he hears the audiences gasp and murmur. “Can you sing for us?”

_Sing for me._

“It’s been a long time,” Jiyong smiles, the corner of his mouth twitches the way it used to whenever Seungri said something ridiculous. He’d tease him about it, a little and sometimes a lot, but he liked it, _they_ liked it. “Sing _with_ me.”

Seungri moves to get himself a microphone. His throat isn’t warmed up yet, he forgets half of the lyrics.

But then they sing.

***

They say people come and go. Lovers do too.

But _love_ is a liquid substance, flow from your heart, along your veins, moving with your blood.

Jiyong sat in front of the fireplace, inside his house in London. Night crawled to the sky the way Seungri invaded his throughts; slowly, steadily. He wanted to know where was him, as much as he wished him to never come back. He wanted to know if Seungri too, felt like cars were moving too fast but days were passing too slow.

He wanted to bury his face on the crook of Seungri’s neck, watching him playing stupid jelly games in his phone. He wanted to listen to Seungri’s speech of his new kind of business, determination filled his voice as if he never was an idol. He wanted Seungri to wear his worn out jogging shoes and threw them away because it’s full of things they could not go back into.

He wanted to ask if it was the other way around –if Seungri found out the threat first, if it was Seungri who opened the envelope instead of him, if it was Seungri whose phone blown up by constant messages –what would Seungri do?

Would Seungri thread his fingers around his, whispering apologies every night?

Would Seungri came out to face light and the press with head held high?

Would Seungri walk with pride or would sadness weighting his shoulders instead?

Would Seungri let him go?

Would he, Kwon Jiyong, want to stay?

***


	20. What I Want, What I Need

He got scar on his scalp last year. It was winter and his feet seem to be frozen by the chill when he stepped down the stairs of his own empty solitary house. He bounced, twice, before his _peaceminusone_ hat hit the floor, followed by his head and the rest of his body. He didn’t know how long it took for his mother to come up by his side, for the nurse to examine his injury, or for his manager to cover up the news so it wouldn’t be leashed to the media. But he remembered the moment when he _flew_ , the fragile moment of falling down when his heart skipped its beat. He remembered when it’s all silent, when he fought the gravity –even for the briefest moment –before he was pulled again by the force. He remembered about how it felt to be different, a short experience of not standing on earth like everyone else.

He remembered that when he lay on the floor, the air smelled like citrus, the scent of soap Seungri would get from the store; that when he closed his eyes and embraced the pain, the image of love pounded air in his ribcage was the only thing he held onto before his hand blindingly reached for his phone.

***

He didn’t ask for him but Seungri came. That’s how it works for years, even from the beginning.

That’s why he isn’t even flinch when Seungri’s reflection stands beside his. He had get rid of his suit and now wearing the most plain T-shirt Jiyong ever seen. But it doesn’t mean Jiyong can see his heart. Even as they are side by side, Seungri might as well be thousand meters apart.

“Congratulations,” Seungri’s make up is gone and his eyes are tired. Maybe if he gets his panda eyes back, Jiyong will believe that he never left.

“Thank you,” Jiyong swallows hard. Seungri’s heat is so inviting he can’t help but craving. Seunghyun would laugh at him, at how he’s becoming Seungri’s _admirer_ instead of the other way around but they both know it’s been happening for so long before Jiyong himself realized it. “Thank you for having me in your show.”

Seungri nods, his eyes shift to look at the _real_ Jiyong instead of one in the mirror. There’s agony in his voice when he says, “It was nice to _have_ you here.”

Jiyong ducks his head down in shame. He isn’t sure if he should stay or say something, or that he has anything to say. Seungri’s watch tells him it’s 8 pm. “Don’t you have somewhere to go?”

He watches Seungri’s feet shift and retreat to the door. He wishes he can follow his movement but his are glued to the floor. It’s almost like the time when he helplessly bracing himself from taking him back almost five years ago.

But then Seungri stops just when he’s about to go out. Jiyong’s eyes are still looking at Seungri’s casual sneakers but his ears catch the voice just well.

“I’m starving. How does dinner sound?”

***

When Youngbae’s dog died, Jiyong sent him stuff for a week. Coupons for free meal from Youngbae’s favorite restaurant, countless messages talking about their old friends, booklets of places with beautiful flowers, silly photo of them from back when they were trainees. Then Youngbae showed up in his house one afternoon, wearing his cap low and worn out jeans.

He hugged his bestfriend but before he could say anything, his own dog came up to greet them. He felt himself stung in his place, waiting for the dam to break.

Except it didn’t.

Youngbae patted the happy pet on its head, watching its tail wagged in happiness as he danced too excitedly around his feet. Jiyong watched his friend squatted down to give his dog proper greetings –hug and squeeze and belly rub –before he came to his sense.

“Youngbae –” he started but he wasn’t sure of what he had left to offer his condolences. “ –I’m sorry.”

They were not kids anymore, they had a lot of people running after them, concerts and schedules tightly wrapped around their time that not even a moment of grief could really fit in between. It hurt him to know people expected them to move on when he did not even have control on his heart’s pace.

“He’s gone,” Youngbae said, his palm ran along fur. “He’s not going to comeback nor that I can run after him.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“I can’t chase him this time,” Youngbae stood and he looked at Jiyong. “He won’t be there to bark at me when I come home after _too long gone_.”

Jiyong swallowed his next words.

“But I have you.”

He wasn’t expected to grief, not when he had so many people around looking at him with eyes full of expectation. He didn’t know what Youngbae seek from him but he nodded.

 

When Seungri’s show had an episode with Daesung as guest, Jiyong watched it in his house with Youngbae and two bottles of wine. He laughed at their jokes, at the awkward silence when the audience asked Seungri to hug Daesung and the elder made a stoic expression when the younger jumped around him mimicking an excited teenage girl. He made comments of them, Youngbae hummed and smiled at their younger friends as well. Seungri said something that made Daesung teased him, so funny Jiyong almost choked on his wine.

They didn’t talk about BIGBANG at all, it was just two friends in a show. They didn’t talk about Jiyong as well, as if there were never something to begin with him. At the end of the show, Youngbae’s arm was over his shoulder, a comforting gesture he had learned long ago for Jiyong who had been crying without realization.

_You have me_ , Youngbae didn’t need to say that. _You always have._

So Jiyong leaned on him.

That was the day Jiyong learned he had lose many things, he had lose himself to something that wasn’t even a _home_ to him. There were friends who would pick him up, there were people who would catch him, but he surrendered himself to something he didn’t really need and want. Amongst the crowd, Jiyong had confused himself of what to do, _what to be_.

The next day, he announced his _official_ hiatus. The flashes of cameras followed him but he shut himself, far and far away from prying eyes. He still wrote songs, featured in many albums, went to some shows, still the golden child people put him a title of. Except this time, he didn’t blink, selfish enough to hide himself in a cocoon of silence.

He didn’t know how to fix, but he definitely not going to lose anymore.

***

“I sent your manager home,” Seungri picks a meat with his chopsticks. “He was grateful.”

Jiyong smiles, a genuine smile he doesn’t even make an effort for. “He must be. It’s been a tiring week.”

“Promotion? Are you planning for a tour?”

“Yeah, it’s been discussed for a while.”

“No decision just yet?”

“No,” Jiyong miss this kind of conversation. At ease, without rush or scattering plans for tomorrow. “I want to take it easy.”

“Take it easy,” Seungri repeats and feed himself spoonful of rice. “It doesn’t sound like you.”

“I’ve changed,” Jiyong murmurs before he can stop himself and Seungri is listening because he always does.

The next minute is silence only for the sound of spoons hitting bowl and sizzling of meat.

“Like _what_?”

Jiyong raises his eyebrow, his mouth hangs open. “Excuse me?”

Seungri smiles at him, not too wide and not too hopeful. It’s small smile that he would offer Jiyong whenever Jiyong tried to shut him off of the troubles he’s into, those time when Jiyong asked him to stay away so Seungri couldn’t see the pain in him. It’s the same smile that made Jiyong fell in love with him.

“What have changed about you?” his eyes wait for story and Jiyong can’t say _no_.

“A lot.”

“Then tell me.”

“About me?”

“Yeah,” Seungri nods. “About you.”

***


	21. The Absence of Ignorance

“I don’t know what you’re gonna do without me,” Seungri rolled his eyes. He removed the wet cloth from Jiyong’s forehead to check the temperature with the back of his hand. “Aren’t you supposed to be the one _baby-ing_ me?”

Jiyong chuckled, the earth was moving beneath him eventhough he lay on his bed. His blood was cold and hot and cold again within minutes. “You have to give up that _personal nurse_ obsession.”

“Said someone who worship a nurse painting,” Seungri’s voice drifting in and out of Jiyong’s mind.

“It’s not just _a_ painting, Seungri.”

“Are you giving me art lecture?”

“Yes.”

“You’re talking to the wrong _Seunghyun_ then.”

Jiyong’s hand roamed the sheet to find Seungri’s. He loved the way Seungri’s pulse quickened when he held his wrist. If he could open his eyes, he’d see Seungri’s eyes widened. To the thought, he smiled.

He loved that.

He knew he would always do.

“You’re smiling,” Seungri’s forehead came to rest on his chest. “Something funny?”

Jiyong thought of the butterflies in his stomach when Seungri came home. The way his lips pouted as he scolded Jiyong for smoking _again_. _I was just gone for a day, hyung,_ Seungri’s voice was stern. _And you had gotten sick._

Through his half-lided eyes, he had seen Seungri stacked up the papers on the carpet. The floor moved beneath his feet like water when Seungri dragged him to the bed.

_I didn’t know I was sick,_ Jiyong muttered when Seungri asked why he didn’t tell anyone he’s running fever. Seungri came up with pills, wet towel and a small bin he picked from the corner of Jiyong’s room.

_I’ll stick around to make sure you won’t touch it_ , he grumbled as he threw Jiyong’s pack of cigarette in it.

“Nothing,” Jiyong grinned. “Not funny at all.”

 

_I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,_ he thought as he’s slowly giving up.

***

By the time they finished eating, Jiyong has many new things to memorize.

Seungri will be attending the grand opening of his newest branch of _Aori_ _Ramen_ next month. He didn’t go to Korea often but he visits his parents every once in a while and he would love to spend this Christmas in Seoul. He lives by himself, he doesn’t trust the apartment’s laundry service. His house, the one Jiyong came into few days ago, still needs some _stuff_ to fill it. Jiyong suggested him a pet and Seungri laughed. He was thinking more about decoration, not something that will chew on his socks while he’s out.

Jiyong exchanged informations too. He’s planning to have a world tour, this time, with many countries in Europe. He owns three cats and they’re all living with Dami. He is writing songs for YG’s newest girlgroup and one of them is Seungri’s fan. Seungri smiled and Jiyong saw twinkle in his eye that reminded him of the old Seungri he used to have within his grasp.

 

“I’ll drive you back to your hotel,” Seungri says as Jiyong pays their bill, insisted on it to make up for Seungri’s treat when he was drunk. “Or wherever you’re staying.”

“Hotel,” Jiyong tells him. The idea of Seungri knows _nothing_ about him feels bitter and he doesn’t like it. He loves Seungri who will answer 100 questions about him correctly, even things he doesn’t know himself.

Seungri nods. “Show me the way, captain.”

***

_Seungri’s face was red. It was a brief touch but he’s breathing hard. Their lips were centimeters apart and Jiyong’s head was pounding._

_“What was that for?” he whispered as if he’s afraid to speak out loud might Jiyong run away to the night._

_Jiyong, whose body had moved without his mind thinking, blinked. “What?”_

_“You kissed me,” Seungri’s voice was small. They’re standing in open air, the light wasn’t bright but he felt thunderstruck._

_“I did,” Jiyong murmured, his blood raced to do it again; to feel Seungri, warm to his touch, skin beneath his, dancing with needs._

_Seungri took a step back inside the house and Jiyong followed. Magnet, Jiyong thought as he closed the door behind him. Seungri was looking at him, his eyes were big and curious, but he didn’t ask anything. He never really questioned Jiyong’s action, it was always Jiyong peeking on Seungri’s things although Seungri never hide anything from him. Seungri was an air he’s free to consume, yet Jiyong felt the rush to keep him in a jar._

_When he moved, bracketing Seungri’s face with his palm, Seungri’s eyelids dropped shut. He thought he knew everything about Seungri already, but as their lips met again, he felt like a bird being set free, exploring a whole new journey he thought he’d never allowed to reach._

***

Seungri turns the engine off. “Are we meeting in the backstage?”

“What?” Jiyong isn’t following the conversation. The ride was filled with his voice from Seungri’s iPod –he insisted on listening to Jiyong’s new album –and Jiyong, resisted nothing, was lost in his own jumbled thoughts while looking at Seungri, driving and humming on his seat.

“Daesung-hyung’s concert,” Seungri yawns. It’s not really a night time, at least not Seungri’s nap time when he still lived with Jiyong, but it’s been a day and Jiyong supposes that Seungri must be tired. “Aren’t we invited?”

“Ah, right,” Jiyong tries to remember where his ticket is. Daesung would give him another one, of course, but he’d pout and Youngbae would sigh and Seunghyun would glare at him for forgetting the golden chance to see their lovely brother on stage. “I guess –I don’t know. Seunghyun haven’t told me anything _more_ about it.”

“When will he arrive?”

“Oh, he’s already in Japan,” Jiyong unbuckles his seatbelt, feeling in every move Seungri’s eyes trailing on him. “We’ve met.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Seungri chuckled. “I envy.”

“That I met Seunghyun?”

“Hmm.”

Jiyong frowned. “He’s still _an ass_ , in case you think he’s not.”

“What did you do?”

“With Seunghyun?” Jiyong shuddered. His throat fills with truth he is barely holding on, the ones keeping his life hazy. “We just talked.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Hmm.”

“That’s not important,” Jiyong gets out of the car and Seungri, surprisingly, does too. “Thank you.”

He waits but Seungri doesn’t say anything. When he does, it’s when Jiyong turns to get inside the elevator. His voice is empty and nearly quiet.

“They’ve been asking me,” Seungri exhales and Jiyong imagines the air shift form into rain eventhough he can’t see Seungri. “About what had happened.”

“Who?” Jiyong is only five steps away from his escape, he can run and push the button so he’ll go up and locked inside his hotel room.

He can hear Seungri’s footsteps approaching him in a light and dull echo. He closes his eyes and counts in his head. _One, two, three, four, five –_

“Everyone,” Seungri is standing right behind him. He’s taller than Jiyong but he’s always _always_ looks up to Jiyong as if Jiyong can pick the stars with only tiptoeing. “Me. Myself.”

“What do you want to know, _Seunghyun_?” Jiyong knows every way to hurt Seungri, he knows every thing to push him away. But Seungri, as far as Jiyong knows, is too hard to disappoint.

“Us,” Seungri reaches for his sleeves, clutching tightly so Jiyong can’t fly away from his hold but Jiyong doesn’t have place to land on, _he never really does_. “Tell me.”

“That’s _a lot_ and like you’ve said, four years late.”

“I was afraid,” Seungri confesses, he takes another step forward so they’re standing side by side. “That if I hear that, I won’t have another reason to think about you.”

Jiyong takes Seungri’s hand in his. Seungri’s fingers always fit the spaces between his own like it’s been made for it; like Seungri, by nature’s purpose, has been _there_ for him.

“I don’t want to forget us,” Seungri closes his eyes. “I want to be fine with remembering.”

“Seungri…”

“Please,” he begs. “Tell me.”

Jiyong knows how to knock Seungri’s walls down, how to barge in his space without invitation, but he doesn’t really know how to ask Seungri in. He strokes Seungri’s hair, it’s soft and wavy, black to its root. Seungri leans to the touch and Jiyong’s world shines so bright that it hurts his eyes but he can’t move, he doesn’t want to.

_Crooked._

“I’d like some tea,” Seungri whispers and it’s thick with fear.

Jiyong swallows his own tears. “Sure.”

Seungri squeezes his hand and the question creeps through Jiyong’s skin like curse.

_What happened to us?_

***


	22. Jinx

He came home a little late. Things had taken time longer than he predicted, and Kwon Jiyong wasn’t very happy about things out of his prediction. He served himself a glass of water, Seungri’s handwriting caught his attention.

_Be back tomorrow._

It’s not artistic or such, but Jiyong traced the words with his fingertip. Two days without Seungri, it wasn’t new to him. He smiled and took the note with him, slipped is under his pillow as he let sleep pull him in.

 

He woke up with his own breathing resounding against the wall. His hand unconsciously roamed through the soft surface that usually bore the scent of Seungri. He would wake up first, he always did. He would let the younger man sleep a little bit more, shamelessly trying to picture the line of his face, the curve of his slightly open mouth. He would shake him gently, watching Seungri’s eyes blinked open and the way his expression softened the moment he realized it’s _just_ Jiyong.

He would steal the blanket and Seungri, as always, would whine and shift closer. Seungri was muscles and fat while Jiyong was bones and skin and all the guts he couldn’t spill out loud to the world without making people hating him even more. He loved it when Seungri’s steady breaths hit his hair, when he crawled to Jiyong as if Jiyong was more a protection than the blanket; as if it wasn’t Jiyong who stole it in the first place.

He loved when Seungri, out of everyone – _everything_ –else in this world, would choose him without a single doubt. He loved it when Seungri, had more than a thousand people around him, would look for Jiyong out of the crowd.

With a deep sigh, he realized how much he loved having Seungri.

And _being Seungri’s_.

 

The call came around noon. He was nursing himself with cereals and half–empty bottle of milk when his phone rang. It was not even a minute or a conversation but the words had gotten his curiosity to turn into anxiety.

_Nyongtory is real_.

It sounded like a joke. It could be a prank call. It could be _their fans._

But it was a statement, not a question.

Then he got messages.

The more he scrolled through it, the slower his heart beat.

When the messages stopped coming, Jiyong looked behind him and wondered who hung the mistletoe last year, if the walls were always that broken white instead of shining bright, if everything –him –would ever be the same anymore.

 

He sat in the bathtub and thought how funny it was. It looked like a movie, one he’d snicker about of _how_ _dramatic_ it seemed. The shower was on and it’s running hot water but all inside him was cold.

Was it possible to be frozen when everything around you crashing against the shore?

The fog got thick in the bathroom and Jiyong wondered if it’s possible to be surrounded by clouds but he’s still repeatedly hitting the ground.

 

Jiyong watched his frown dissolved into fear, the thin line of his mouth turned into an almost tear.

“You’re running fever,” Seungri said, his face pained.

Jiyong shrugged. “Maybe.”

“And you’ve been smoking,” Seungri pushed him to bed, tucked him in with blanket that smelled a lot like Jiyong and so less of Seungri. “Should I hire a maid everytime I go somewhere?”

“Panda maid,” Jiyong teased him. “That’d be good.”

“I was just gone for a day, hyung,” he sounded tired and worried and every other emotion of sadness all at once that Jiyong had to squeeze his hand.

“I’ll be alright,” he said quietly. So quiet that he couldn’t even believe it himself.

 

Seungri fell asleep on his chest. There would be print of Jiyong’s shirt button on his cheek when he woke up later. Jiyong was supposed to wake him up but he’s afraid the moment he got lost in Seungri’s eyes, he would never be able to save them both. So he clutched onto Seungri’s denim, counting the beats of his heart, calm and steady against Jiyong’s side.

***

He closed his eyes as if it would dismiss his mind from remembering what he’s holding. When he blinked them open and it’s still there, he knew that he had made the best decision. It was ten and focus. It was like how Jiyong remembered it but with less of Summer air and sparks of Seungri’s smile. He let the photographs lay on the table, staring at them without blinking until his eyes got watery that he could fool himself enough it wasn’t happening.

The envelope fell from the table like feather but to Jiyong, it’s a deafening sound that signaled it’s the end of his fight.

***

“I don’t think it’s gonna work, Seungri,” he heard himself saying. It’s a script, it’s printed in his mind already, he’s not failing this.

“About what?” Seungri hummed.

“About _us_ ,” the word was so familiar with him that it felt wrong to put it in a bad way. “You and me.”

Seungri looked like he’s about to cry but then he stood up, marching his way to him.

Jiyong thought he had felt the worst, that the journey would be less painful than the moment he decided to let go but he wasn’t prepared for this, for a strong hold of Seungri’s arms around him.

“It’s me,” Seungri whispered against his shoulder when Jiyong tried to break free. “It’s Seungri, it’s just me. Don’t snap, don’t be mad.”

When he stroke Jiyong’s hair, his words were clear and inaudible.

_Don’t be afraid._

Seungri kissed him on the cheek and Jiyong briefly pushed him away because it felt like sword between his ribs for everything he shouldn’t want anymore.

***

“Are you sleeping?” the bed shifted and the scent invaded his senses mercilessly. Jiyong felt the skin he’d known for years danced on his cheeks, that when it’s removed it left invisible scars.

_A brand_ , he thought. _From Seungri._

“Are you mad at me?” Seungri’s voice was soft; so close to breaking. Jiyong couldn’t answer, he pretended to be sleeping.

Maybe, if he pretended enough, it would be all over soon.

***

He’d wake up first. He’d turn to his side and Seungri’s face would be so near, it hurt to feel his breath against his skin. He would reach to touch his forehead, to draw his jawline, to trace the shape of his lips. Seungri leaned to his touch, unconsciously and out of habit; Jiyong thought of when he’d give up, when Seungri’s patience would wear off.

He didn’t wake him up, he slipped from the bed instead, marching his way to his car, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to stop wishing.

_I wish you to be okay._

_I wish you to stop loving me._

_I wish you to never get hurt._

_I wish you happiness._

_I wish you days, months, years, all the time in this world._

_I wish you love, so much that it wouldn’t hurt you._

_I wish you life, one without me._

Jiyong was afraid that he’s wishing too much and one glance at Seungri would jinx it all.

***


	23. Patience

In one of his most vivid nightmare, he was standing. It smelled like leaves and rain but it wasn’t a forest. There was a beautiful scenery, a blue painting of sky and everything was sunshine. Then he looked down and saw Seungri, holding on to a thin skin of earth. It was dark below him. _I love you,_ Seungri’s mouth didn’t move but he could hear his voice just fine. _Please._

His chest hurt and he blinked but Seungri’s gone.

***

“I wish I could help,” Hyunsuk sank on his chair, suddenly seemed so small.

Jiyong tried to smile. “You’ve done a lot.”

“ _More_ ,” there were regrets spitting from his words. “I wish I could do more, Jiyong.”

“You can’t,” because he knew, it’s up to him. The decision would be his and should be his only.

“You’ll stay around, won’t you?”

“Where else will I be?” Jiyong asked no one. “But Seungri –”

“I’m not letting him go,” Hyunsuk sighed. _Neither should you_.

“Wish me luck.”

***

The messages didn’t come anymore nor the photographs. But it didn’t make him feel better. To be real, it made him feel emptier. He had nothing to hold against anymore but himself; but Seungri.

“I’m home.”

He could feel Seungri’s eyes on him, lingered stare that he would gladly exchange if only it’s a different situation.

_Or most likely, an entire different world, one that wasn’t so fucked up._

“Have you eaten?” Seungri came closer, Jiyong felt the air shifted, he couldn’t breathe. The first time he met Seungri, the air choked him too. He thought this was the best way to remember.

“Seungri,” he turned around. Seungri stood near one of his collectible painting, waiting. “I’m letting you go, Seunghyun.”

***

It was like a broken machine. It kept on resounding in the back of his mind, that if he closed his eyes long enough, colors would start squirming and picturing Seungri’s face, the way Jiyong wished he’d never seen.

_“Then goodbye.”_

Each time, Jiyong had different answer.

_I don’t want you to go._

_Please come back._

_I’m sorry._

_I love you._

_I can’t let you go._

_I don’t want to hurt you._

_Stay._

_How about good luck?_

_I need you._

_See you later._

_I miss you already._

None of them was _I can’t say goodbye_ , like what he really did say.

***

He tried to get it off with songs. He preferred his room to stay messy, he wanted his music to keep on playing, he didn’t allow himself to stop.

To be honest, he couldn’t stop.

Because if he did, if he ever paused to see around, if he ever let one spot to be clean, he’d recall everything he’s not supposed to have.

He’d want back everything he used to own; someone he selfishly claimed as his.

Because if he ever looked back, Jiyong would reach for Seungri in every chance he had and that’s what he shouldn’t do.

When he was offered a _comeback_ , he had thought for a week, a full seven days that Hyunsuk nearly lost his patience. He almost said no but then his phone beeped.

_We’ll be promoting in Japan, for sure. This is your chance._

When Jiyong said yes, he never felt so sober in his life.

***

******************

***

He doesn’t have tea. To be honest, he doesn’t think he has anything to offer but his story and himself.

 

“Why?” Seungri’s voice is broken and his eyes are closed as if it will dispel everything Jiyong had just told him; his last wall of protection so pain won’t be able to reach him. “Why didn’t you tell me this _sooner_?”

Jiyong finds himself unable to reason. All these years, he thought he’d have at least thousand excuses for his act, yet he can’t remember any now. “I couldn’t, Seungri.”

“But I love you,” Seungri falls apart in his arms.

 

_But I love you_ will be an excuse in a perfect world but not the one they’re living in.

***

Jiyong doesn’t know how he made it to bed. He doesn’t recognize his surrounding at first but it’s not hangover, he’s sure. The blanket seems wrong, the sun peeking from the curtain isn’t yellow, there’s an alarm clock he doesn’t own. For a moment, Jiyong thinks he’s still dreaming. For a moment, he forgot about the scars.

“Seungri,” he sits up abruptly, nearly threw himself to the floor.

But it’s quiet and sound, only a faint scent of love draped itself around him like a cape greeted back as if he’s not allowed to touch the past anymore.

***

Seungri didn’t leave him a note.

And Jiyong doesn’t know he’s been looking for _something_ until someone taps him on his shoulder, asking if he’s _lost_. When he realizes he’s in the elevator, he shakes his head and flashes him a smile he know will work. The man shrugs and gets out from the metal box, leaving Jiyong and his memory about how last night, as they’re reaching his floor, Seungri’s hand was warm and soft against his; how that felt so right.

***

“Sorry,” he fidgets with his bracelet. “I know you’re busy.”

“I’m having five minutes break,” Daesung sounds out of breath. He must be doing rehearsal. “What is that, hyung?”

“I talked to Seungri,” Jiyong doesn’t know if it’s a good idea to tell him the day before his concert starts but after telling Seungri, he doesn’t feel the need to hide anymore. “I told him everything.”

“Hmm,” Daesung sighs. “I’m not sure what do you want me to do.”

“He left me.”

“Left? Seungri?”

“Yeah, Seungri.”

“It doesn’t sound like _Seungri_.”

“Maybe he’s changed,” Jiyong shudders at his own thought. “He told me that he was afraid to hear because he would have no more reason to cling – _to think_ –about me, but maybe that’s why he wanted to hear,” his voice croaks; ugly. “Maybe he wanted to get rid of–”

“Hyung,” Daesung’s tone is steady, in a calm rhythm Jiyong envies him, always. “Wait, just wait.”

“He left, Daesung.”

“No,” Jiyong hears the younger stifles a laugh. “It’s Thursday.”

“And?”

“And Seungri is busy on Thursday.”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you know?”

Jiyong can’t help but feeling offended. “Nothing, of course.”

“Hyung,” Daesung laughs, finally. “What do you _want_ to know?”

“Everything,” he answers, then quickly corrects himself. “Everything I deserve to know.”

“Then wait. Just wait.”

***

It’s not a note.

To be exact, it’s the pillows on the sofa that stacked up on one side and two glasses of water on the table, untouched. Jiyong didn’t see it at first, maybe because he was too busy looking for Seungri’s presence that he forgot there were _things_ of him that might left.

Seungri didn’t mean to leave it, for sure.

But maybe that’s how _fixing things_ should be.

You look around for traces, for clues, for _signs_ that make you believe it _happened_ , it’s _remembered_. You pick up the bits and pieces of leftover instead of holding one big empty frame.

Then you try.

And you wait.

***


	24. Perish

“Why do people wish upon a shooting star?”

Jiyong looked at him; half amused, half laughing. “Because they believe it.”

He shrugged. “Do you believe it too?”

Jiyong’s new electric cigarette’s scent was too sweet and it covered the petrichor. “Should I try?”

“But there’s no shooting star, hyung.”

“Then you fly, _fall –_ whatever,” Jiyong snorted. “Aren’t you a star, Seungri? _Superstar_.”

“Aish, I’m not,” he rolled his eyes. Jiyong poked his sides and gazed back at the sky.

 

_I’m not a star_ , Seungri thought. _But I’ve fallen._

_Falling like rain, at once and all over the place of land._

_Of you._

***

V.I is short for _Victory_. That’s what Seungri thought everytime someone tried to put him down but right now, he’s anything but winning. All he can think about is Jiyong, he can’t even win his own thoughts.

_I’m supposed to tell him_ , Seungri leans back on his chair, the most comfortable one he found in store two months ago. _I’m supposed to leave him a note…or something._

 

He didn’t know how many hours had passed when Jiyong’s weight suddenly draped on him. His mind was in chaos and Jiyong didn’t say anything. There were so many questions running in his head but it disappeared when he saw Jiyong’s face relaxing and his arms were wrapped around Seungri’s body like protection.

_Like blanket_.

He thought he would be mad. He thought he would be angry. Or sad.

Or maybe, he would hate him.

But he couldn’t; he _didn’t_.

There was something about Jiyong that was so honest, that was so open last night and it hurt him more than the fact he kept them as secret for four years.

The pain in Jiyong’s eyes. The silent apology although he didn’t say _sorry_.

The love…

 

_But maybe,_ Seungri pinches the bridge of his nose; exhausted. _Maybe he was just dreaming._

***

“I’ll be there on Saturday morning.”

Seungri blinks. “There? Where?”

“Japan, _duh_ ,” Youngbae snickers. “Don’t we have reunion something after Daesung’s concert?”

“Ah right,” he shakes his head, ashame of himself for being out of concentration for a full day. “Sorry.”

“You don’t sound excited.”

“I am,” Seungri attempts on grinning then remembers that Youngbae can’t see that. “It will be good for promoting my new hamburger restaurant.”

“Give me coupons and I’ll help you promoting.”

“I’ll give you free meal once.”

Youngbae barks a laughter. “So much for _your brother_.”

“Business is business, hyung.”

“You sound like Jiyong sometimes.”

Seungri falls silent.

“I watched the show,” Youngbae says softly, as if he’s afraid to push and break Seungri. “It was fun.”

“It was,” Seungri tries not to recall Jiyong’s gaze when they finished their duet. “Like the old times.”

“Did you talk to Jiyong?”

“I did.”

“How was that?”

“What’s _that_?”

“You know,” Youngbae hesitates. “ _That_. You and him.”

“There wasn’t _that_.”

“Seungri, I’m not blind.”

“I didn’t say –”

“Seungri,” Youngbae cuts him in. “You love him. Jiyong loves you too. Aren’t four years long enough for you to stop denying the fact?”

“He loved me,” Seungri feels the redness on his cheeks. His mind travels back to that time when Jiyong kissed him. _Did Youngbae see that too?_

“He still does. Don’t talk like he ever stopped and _you_ love him too, still.”

Seungri balls his hand into a fist, so tight that his palm hurts. “I do.”

“And –”

“And I’m wondering about it.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Seungri feels himself deflated. He feels so empty he can’t remember the last time he looks at his reflection without wondering who it was. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Why?” Youngbae asks, not sure if he should. Worst of all, he thinks he might already know.

“Jiyong hyung did that to protect me,” now that he acknowledges the fact, it feels even harder. Like in every breathe, he’s forced to make a decision. “He wanted me to go so that I won’t get hurt.”

Youngbae sighs. “Seungri, I’m not sure if I know what you’re actually talking _about_. But I’m sure he did. Jiyong would never hurt you, not intentionally.”

“I don’t want to hurt him.”

“You won’t.”

“But,” there are crescent marks on his palm, he wishes it will distract him from the calm storm he’s about to go in. “…I love him?”

Youngbae doesn’t answer. Seungri isn’t sure if he will, either.

“Hyung…now that I know, shouldn’t it be right if I _too_ , let him go?” he feels stream of tears coming close to his throat, pounding on walls of his eyes like fever.

***

Last year, he forgot Jiyong’s birthday.

He was working and when he came home, it’s already August 19th. He remembered because he _crossed_ the date in his calendar with his usual red marker. He had skipped it –the August 18 th –every year for a reason; that if he didn’t cross the date, it’d feel like it didn’t exist, like it wasn’t there.

Like everything about Jiyong would perish by that date.

He didn’t remember drawing circles around the square he just crossed but he must did because then he was standing –actually staring, but it could be because he was exhausted that he zoomed a little –and his eyes were wet although it couldn’t be raining inside his house.

***

“Hyung.”

“Seungri,” Jiyong sounds like he’s relieved. “Where are you?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake you up,” Seungri bites his lower lip. “I was…in a rush.”

“Okay.”

Seungri notices that it wasn’t _It’s okay_. So maybe it’s not.

“I really am sorry, I thought –”

“Are you coming _back_?”

He has to blink twice before responding. “What?”

“Can I –May I see you? Are you still busy?”

“No,” he answers quickly. “Actually I was going to ask if _you_ are busy.”

“Why?”

“Dinner, if you want.”

“I’m starving,” Jiyong pauses for a while. “So…you’re coming here?”

He thinks about the years that lost and days ahead that seem so far. Today, however, is the closest of all he has _with_ Jiyong.

“I am.”

“I’ve been waiting,” it sounds so sincere that Seungri’s heart hurts.

***


	25. Invitation

Jiyong didn’t write Seungri in the _thank you_ section of his album booklet. He wrote everyone else but Seungri.

_I don’t have to_ , he told himself.

After all, every song in it is about Seungri and that’s a whole lot more than just _thank you_.

They’re Jiyong’s words of _I love you_ and he felt fool for wishing Seungri would decipher them someday.

 

He sings nobody else but Seungri.

***

“Hi,” Seungri grins. “I hope you don’t mind ramen.”

Jiyong feels a smile tug on his lips like water, threatening to break the _fucking_ dam of four years on hiding. “I was wishing for Chinese take-out something.”

Seungri rolls his eyes. “I’ll sign contract with the best one soon.”

“So it’s business? I thought it’s dinner,” Jiyong lets Seungri in and there are butterflies he can’t shut down in his chest.

“It’s marketing strategy, _Mr. Kwon,_ ” Seungri’s shoes are casual and his sweater has holes. His scent is night air and Jiyong’s lungs breathe until its hurt.

“I won’t let you take a picture of me with your _business emblem_ stuff and upload it to the internet.”

Seungri laughs, the sound is crystal clear against Jiyong’s mind, powerful enough to tear all the awkwardness he thought would be there when they speak again; when they _meet_ again. Seungri, in his own self, holds the hammer to every wall Jiyong has built and it scares Jiyong sometimes because his wants are supposed to be buried deep down inside.

***

Seungri’s silence was unusual but not unpleasant. Jiyong’s favorite was when the weight of his head pressed against his side and soft breaths hit his skin, when Seungri was quiet in his sleep and he’s so near that Jiyong could wrap his arm around Seungri and had him so close that nobody could tell him Seungri wasn’t belong to Jiyong; not even Seungri himself.

***

“How was work?”

Seungri shrugs. _I couldn’t_ , his mind says but his answer to the question is, “Fine.”

“So you actually have a headquarter office something?”

“Not really,” he picks the noodles with his chopsticks, buying time with actually chewing on his food. Jiyong waits for more, blatantly hopeful and Seungri can’t look at him in the eyes although he doesn’t know what Jiyong wants as answer; or if that matters at all for him to answer.

Jiyong blinks.

“Not one fancy office like yours,” Seungri doesn’t know what’s the bitter in his mouth. Maybe his lies about his seven-floor building or the truth he’s about to _decide_ for them both. “It’s not important.”

“It _is_ ,” Jiyong states stubbornly. “You’re important.”

But Seungri’s mind is somewhere else between dreams and hopes that crash against the shore he barely hears himself breathing.

***

_He came to Youngbae’s wedding a little too early and hidden._

_“Jiyong,” Youngbae chuckled. “You look even more nervous than me.”_

_Jiyong swore that his bestfriend’s smile were up to reach his ears and the way happiness radiated from him was contagious that it tickled his cheeks. “Well, I’ve never been to your weddng before.”_

_“Sorry, I have to steal the spotlight,” Youngbae shrugged, his grin was somewhat dorky._

_“You’re the king today,” he mocked playfully and they laughed._

_“How’s it?”_

_“It?” Youngbae stared at his tailored suit._

_“Marriage. Getting married.”_

_“Technically, I’m not married yet, Jiyong.”_

_“Just five more hours,” he rolled his eyes and Youngbae chuckled. “Can’t wait.”_

_They fell in comfortable silence as they sat. Jiyong’s fingers itched to take his cigarette out and had some taste of it._

 

_“It’s different for each people.”_

_“What?” he raised an eyebrow. Youngbae was watching him through the mirror._

_“Love.”_

_“Are you practicing a speech about being the first married man among us or –”_

_“Just because it’s different doesn’t mean it’s wrong,” Youngbae cut in. “And I’m sorry for being the married man.”_

_“Don’t,” Jiyong hissed, suddenly mad at himself._

_“I have to,” Youngbae said, a relief. “Jiyong –”_

_“It’s not your fault and I don’t see it as your fault or anyone else’s, Youngbae.”_

_Their shoulder touched, the room suddenly grew so wide Jiyong felt he’s sinking._

_“It’s not your fault either, Jiyong.”_

_“Which one?”_

_They’ve known each other for long to know it’s not a conversation Youngbae wished to have on his wedding day. They also understood, beyond unspoken words, that best was today._

_“We couldn’t help it,” the voice didn’t sound like his, but then again, he had wanted nothing but to crawl out of his own skin for the past year. “It had to happen.”_

_“If you mean BIGBANG,” Youngbae sighed. “It’s_ always _gonna be us.”_

_“That’s why you don’t have to say sorry,” Jiyong scoffed. “I want you to get married.”_

_“Won’t you be jealous?”_

_“Oh right, my fanboy heart,” Jiyong laughed. “I already am, Youngbae.”_

_Youngbae smiled a smile that reminded Jiyong at the day they were told that it’s gonna be five instead of two, the day when every dream suddenly took a turn and they had to pretend like they weren’t dreaming of being a duo all those times they spent together. A smile of reassurance that no matter what would happen, they would always be bestfriends._

_“Can you believe it’s been a year?”_

_Jiyong could because he’s been counting days every day since the day Seungri left, but Youngbae was talking about their idol group. “Yeah.”_

_“It felt like I was just standing on our debut stage yesterday.”_

_“It sometimes felt like I just met you last night, Youngbae.”_

_They laughed because memories erupted in their minds; laughter and tears trapped between pages of times they’ve been through._

 

_“So, about love.”_

_“Are you seriously gonna give me speech, Dong Youngbae?”_

_Youngbae grinned and knocks came from the door, signaling it’s the time._

_“It might be different but it’s not wrong, Jiyong.”_

_“Don’t be late on your own wedding.”_

_“I’m serious.”_

_“Me too.”_

_Youngbae patted his shoulder. “I believe that you can and that you will.”_

_“Be late on my wedding?”_

_“Find your way,” Youngbae marched his way to the door and Jiyong thought of the invisibility of Seungri’s name tattooed on his ribcage with no ink but veins of his beating heart. “Maybe not now, maybe not yet. But you can, Jiyong.”_

Will I?, _Jiyong thought as he watched his bestfriend stepped in to a new chapter of life._

***

“Hyung?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you listening to me?”

“What?” Jiyong comes slowly to his surrounding; of his half-full ramen bowl and empty glass; of Seungri’s worried expression that makes his muscle taut with needs to smooth those wrinkle on his forehead, of the fact that Seungri is sitting across him.

“I asked you what you’ve been doing today.”

“Not much,” Jiyong answered and it’s true because he can’t remember. “Didn’t feel like doing anything.”

“Not going around with your friends?”

“I don’t have that many friends in Japan like you do.”

“Jealous?” it’s a joke but Jiyong has to pretend he’s paying attention to his food. “I’m craving for dessert.”

“Should we order something? Do they take order from a hotel room or –”

“I was thinking about going out,” Seungri puts his chopsticks down and Jiyong will be damned if he squeal but he can at least grin, can he?

“Your treat?”

“You’re still the one with black card,” Seungri pouts but he’s already standing.

***


	26. Missing Things

He loves the bow of Seungri’s mouth.

When Seungri smiles, he seems much younger that Jiyong can fool himself they don’t have years of separation. When Seungri laughs, he gives out the same vibe that it’s impossible not to laugh along with him. When Seungri speaks, his voice wants attention Jiyong can’t help but giving.

When Seungri calls his name, Jiyong falls in love, again.

***

_Love_ , Seungri thinks as he watches Jiyong scanning the isle for chips, _is ink bleed in you_. He doesn’t know what color is his but it’s staining him inside out that he can’t remember how days were when Jiyong wasn’t something he dreamt about; when the question running out in his mind wasn’t about him, when he didn’t wake up with a purpose to make someone else happy.

“Which one do you want?”

They didn’t mean to shop for anything but dessert; which Seungri meant as cake but Jiyong interpreted as ice cream, which led to argument, a nice argument, which made them end up in a store looking for flour and eggs and any other ingredients for pancakes.

And of course, Jiyong has to get some snacks.

“I don’t usually do snacking,” he wheels the shopping cart until it settles beside Jiyong’s slender figure, wrapped tight in a coat and face half hidden under his old Peaceminusone hat. “Which one do _you_ want?”

“This one,” Jiyong answers. When Seungri looks up, Jiyong’s eyes are on him instead of anything else.

“Me too,” Seungri’s hand starts to shake and he has to grip the cart tighter. “ _This_ one.”

***

Jiyong envied Seungri’s thirst of many things because he would never be that young, _that outsider_ to some part of the world. It’s been his playgroud for long and everyone knew him to the point he felt gross for being a center of attention.

_I don’t know how to grill meat_ , he said and he didn’t even pretend but Jiyong had to because he’s expected to do the show, to be the most with knowledge.

_I can’t write it like you do_ , but Seungri folded the sheet of his ten lines song lyric neatly and Jiyong ripped his into two, four, and thousand because he shouldn’t make a song like that.

_I don’t understand_ , Seungri stayed so late and drown himself in his Japanese homework given by their tutor while Jiyong had lines of people queuing to get him in a commercial for a product he couldn’t even say the name.

Jiyong envied Seungri’s thirst of him because he himself would never want to be in his skin as much as Seungri had told and proved he did, even during Jiyong’s bad hair day or broken voice from smoking.

Jiyong envied Seungri for his thirst to tell Jiyong that it’s okay to be _not okay_ and his effort to make Jiyong loved himself a bit more than just G-Dragon he’s supposed to be.

***

“What –” Jiyong tries hard to read the label. “ –on earth is _this_?”

“Salt?” Seungri reaches for a spoon. “Isn’t it?”

Jiyong looks at him as if he’d grown three heads. “I don’t know you understand French.”

“It’s not salt?”

“I don’t speak French either.”

“Well, how about we just try to put it in?”

“Are we making pancakes or disaster, Seungri?” The name still rolls smoothly from his tongue even when his grin splits his face into two. For a moment, it feels more like home and not a five star hotel room with kitchenette.

“I hope it’s edible,” Seungri’s eyes narrow as his eyebrows knitted together. Then he laughs and his hair falls, framing his face.  Jiyong reaches to touch it because he _wants_. When he realizes what he’d done, it’s too late and Seungri’s silent questions grip tightly on his sanity.

“I’m sorry,” Jiyong murmurs. “There’s something in your hair.”

“Well,” Seungri’s voice finds them after a while, Jiyong’s heart stops as he waits. “I hope it’s the recipe because I know we both _don’t really know_ how to make pancakes.”

And he smiles.

***

It’s an instinct to hurt someone as badly as they hurt you. It’s natural, as human being, that when someone put you down, your reaction is to pull them to the same ground.

Love, however, makes it complicated. Because when he falls and bleed, it’s your veins that ripped. When he hits the ground, it’s your knees that broken. As you smash his heart, you know deep down that it’s yours that shattered in pieces.

Because when you love someone, it’s not memories of you that’s important but theirs; how they start their days, how it’s gonna end and how their adventure was.

When you love someone, you forget _you_.

***

“Are you going to be busy tomorrow too?”

Seungri watches him writing his initials on his pancakes using syrup and chocolates and sprinkles. He loves the way Jiyong’s lips are pinched into thin line because he’s concentrating even if it’s just a food they _kind of_ ruined in the process of making; because Jiyong, in everything, can’t really stop trying to impress people. And because out of other people, eventhough Jiyong never told anyone about it, Seungri used to be the one he wanted to impress the most.

“Seungri?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to be busy tomorrow too?”

“Maybe,” his answer comes so slow it rolls his tongue like sin. “I need to ask my manager.”

“I thought you’re going to have a secretary,” Jiyong teases and his laughter chimes against the floor like raindrops.

“I’ll think about it,” but what Seungri wants is tomorrow.

***

This is what Seungri knows : Memories find its way through daily routines, not special occasion.

It’s when he opened his eyes and Jiyong wasn’t there to tell him about the schedules he’d mess up if he didn’t get his ass up from the bed.

Scent of coffee that’s too strong coming from the café near his office while it’s usually sweeter inside Jiyong’s house.

The absence of toothbrush and Do-It-Yourself Vans’ shoes.

Long messages that would never come.

No need to keep ashtray at home.

Or when he stared into the mirror and he couldn’t recognize his reflection because it wasn’t what he wanted to see.

Seungri thought it might be his curse for wanting to stay or his karma for running away.

Either way, he knew he’s still in love.

***

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

They’re watching nightlife through the window glass of Jiyong’s hotel room with canned beer and chips.

“It always is,” Seungri hums absentmindedly. It feels nice to be quiet and content. It feels nice to know Jiyong is within reach.

“Do you like it here?”

“Well, I don’t stay in five-star hotel room everyday?”

“No,” Jiyong chuckles. “I mean in Japan. Living here.”

Seungri thinks of days he’d spent trying to get over what he’d left, trying to move on and in to a place his body stood. “Not always.”

“Did you ever thought of coming back? Korea?” Jiyong watches his cigarette in the ashtray, burnt bright and tastes sweet but toxic. _To me?_

“Sometimes,” Seungri’s hand is cold when it brushes Jiyong’s as he grabs his drink. _Many times_.

Jiyong picks his words carefully despite that he knows he’s slowly losing control. “What do you miss the most?”

There’s endless ocean between them, filled with answers and nothing is right for Jiyong’s question.

_The sandals I stole from you._

_Broken spatula you insisted on keeping to remind us that neither mastering cooking._

_Tiny cat statue that resembled IYE._

_Peppermint toothpaste._

_Your blue bathroom tiles._

_Vase we used to keep our coins in._

_You._

_Us._

“Screams from our fangirls,” Seungri tells him. “What else?”

“I’m sure you have so many of them too here, Seungri.”

“Can’t beat Daesung-hyung yet.”

Jiyong laughs, puff of smoke escapes pass his lips like promises; thick then disappear. “That’s your plan?”

“Now you know,” Seungri laughs along because even if the world stops, his heart doesn’t forget how it feels to be with Jiyong. “Don’t tell him.”

Jiyong’s cheeks hurt and his limbs are tired but he’ll trade his soul for this moment, when everything aches but his very heart. “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Stay the night?”

***


	27. Stay, Stop

When he left his hometown to pursue his dreams, Seungri didn’t think about coming back. _Not yet_ , he’s tell himself as his legs stood up again for another try, another practice, another day. _Not yet_.

When he left his country to forget his dreams, Seungri heard his heart said the same. _Not yet_ , as he counted the steps toward a new place he didn’t wish to go. _Not yet_ , except this time, it’s about leaving instead of coming back.

***

The question renders him speechless.

“What?”

“Stay the night,” Jiyong repeats. “Here.”

“I –we can’t.”

“Why not?”

The question came too fast and with so much pressure it suffocate them both, hangs in the cloud like umbrella of fire. Answer is coming to his tongue but every fiber in his body refuses to acknowledge it because it’d be true; because then, everything will fall apart once again.

“Why not, Seungri?” Jiyong’s voice cracked it stabs Seungri in the chest. “Do you hate me?”

_Can he? Will he?_

“Because I love you,” there’s no room for hesitation between his words. “And that I always will.”

“I can’t lose you,” but even so Jiyong knows it’s slipping passed the gap of his fingers. That even with Seungri being so close and he’s holding him as tight as he can, it’s a losing battle. _Not again_.

“And I can’t lose you,” Seungri’s voice hits his shoulder. _Even if that means I have to lose us._

“You won’t, I’ll do something –”

“Like giving up on your dreams?”

“You are –”

“I can’t,” Seungri feels like he’s underwater and surface is too far he can’t even see the reflection of the sun. “If you lose your dreams, you won’t be _you_ anymore.”

It’s true, they both know that.

“I can get through it,” Jiyong takes Seungri’s hand in his. “I will.”

“How would you stop dreaming? How would you stop singing? How would you step back from _that_ world?”

Jiyong chokes a sob but Seungri’s eyes are full of tears and there’s thunderstorm ringing in his ears he can’t see past the sadness.

“Exactly,” Seungri says. “You don’t.”

“Seungri –”

“And you won’t.”

“Please?”

“Promise me, hyung. Promise me you won’t.”

“I can’t lose you, I really can’t, Seungri…”

“You won’t,” he breathes Jiyong, it feels like living again. “You know where to find me, you always know.”

***

What comes after disaster? You know how to take precautions. You know that it could come anytime and you put up your best barricade of defense to protect what you have, what you want to save. You wait and wait.

But what you do when it’s over? When thunderstorm is gone and earthquake stops and silence hung in the air and moon shaped wrong? Do you pick up leftovers and build a new thing? Do you walk away so that you don’t have to see the broken pieces?

Do you start anew? Do you continue?

***

_“Who is that?”_

_“Seungri,” Jiyong answered immediately._

_“Oh, your friend?”_

_How do you answer a question you don’t wish to answer? How to lie when you know it’s bad you feel so dirty of yourself?_

_“My bandmate, used to.”_

_“Ah, I’ve heard about it. Sorry for the disbandment, man.”_

_“It was two years ago.”_

_His new friend shrugged. “What’s past is past.”_

_“Yeah,” Jiyong slipped the photograph in his pocket._

_Is it possible to move on if you_ don’t want _a future?_

***

It’s like touching water. You can feel it with your fingertips but you can’t hold it.

 

“It’s impossible,” Seungri’s voice so tiny it rings. “To find Seunghyun–hyung chairs he doesn’t know about.”

“You still haven’t gotten him presents?”

“Don’t tell me you already have.”

“Okay, I won’t,” Jiyong sighs. Seungri’s hair is black against the carpet, darker than the night.

“What did you get him?”

“Trip to Alaska.”

Seungri laughs, even weakly, the sound gives Jiyong some air. “Meanie.”

“Said someone who haven’t gotten anything for him.”

“What would be the best present?”

“You,” and he’s not even kidding. Jiyong is tired enough to pretend. Besides, it’s Seungri. It’s so easy to be him with Seungri. “But you won’t fit in the box.”

“Not in the frame either,” Seungri’s hand comes to rest on Jiyong’s chest. Jiyong, who doesn’t believe in fortune teller, wonders if he can print lines on Seungri’s palm so their fate will cross somehow.

_But you fit in me, in my everything that it’s so wrong to not see you filling the cracks._

“I wonder what Daesung will give him.”

“His concert ticket, what else?”

Jiyong feels laughter bubble in his stomach. “You’re right.”

“We should give Daesung–hyung something too, it’s his concert.”

Jiyong closes his eyes, already ahead in tomorrow, in days coming on their way. “We can give him Seunghyun–hyung and you can give Seunghyun _a Daesung_.”

“Sounds like worst gift ever.”

“You’d never know.”

“Will do that anyway,” Seungri gets up and it’s already Friday. “I should go.”

Jiyong doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t trust himself to even blink.

“Goodnight,” it sounds like goodbye.

“Be careful,” Jiyong says, too late because Seungri is already gone from his vision. This time when Seungri left, he watched.

***

_“I’m still your mother even if you decide to live in outer space.”_

_He was too thunderstruck to say anything. “Mom?”_

_“I made us lunch,” his mother smiled at his expression. “What?”_

_“What are you doing here?”_

_“Giving my son a visit? What else?”_

_“Well, I know,” Seungri stepped back to let her come inside. “You could’ve tell me about it.”_

_“Surprise!” she laughed. “How are you doing?”_

_“Great, they said I’ll have my own talk show.”_

_“Really? That’s awesome,” she linked her arm with his, wondered where was the tiny baby that used to wake her up at exactly 2.30 a.m. many years ago._

_“Yeah, I think so too.”_

_His mother, who knew every single unspoken word in his head, squeezed his hand tightly. “Your dad misses you.”_

_“I miss him too, but I can’t go home now. I have a lot to do here, mom.”_

_“I know. Take care of yourself.”_

_“Nobody does it better than you,” he grinned._

_She nodded although she knew it’s impossible for her to heal something crafted deeply in her son’s heart, not when Seungri himself refused to be healed. “Let’s eat.”_

***

How do you explain a lover?

How do you fit ocean in a cup?

How do you tell about something that’s so much you can’t believe it’s true?

How, when he left, do you explain to yourself that it wasn’t just a dream?

What memento would you choose to remember?

What kind of sacrifice would you pick to forget?

***


	28. Counting Down

It’s raining. It’s started around 3 a.m.. He knows because he couldn’t sleep. The temperature went down and he’s been counting sheep for God knows how many hours. Under his blanket is warm but outside world is pain he cannot bear to face. Not today, at least.

Jiyong supposes there’s a day to mourn, to lie down and not moving so that the world will stop spinning even once. What’s the name of something you know exactly where but you’re not supposed to find it?

His phone vibrates.

_It’s raining, bring your umbrella._

He dials the number.

“I don’t have umbrella, I don’t even live here.”

“Well, good morning to you too, Kwon Jiyong. I’m on my way already so get your ass up from that bed.”

“Seungri,” the name tickles his tongue, in a good way. “I’m not moving.”

“I’m not dragging you out.”

“It’s raining outside, Seungri.”

“I miss you too,” Seungri hangs up.

Jiyong thinks there shouldn’t be a day to mourn. Because even if his world stops, Seungri’s shouldn’t.

***

There’s a part of memory he can’t tell if it’s true : He was walking downstairs when he heard Jiyong hummed a melody he’d never heard before.

“Is it a new song?”

Jiyong, who wore nothing but boxer short and his left sock –yes, only the left one –shook his head. “Yes. No. I don’t know, it’s like I’ve heard it somewhere but I can’t recall.”

“Well, I never heard it _anywhere_ before,” he walked up to him. Now that they’re closer, he could see Jiyong’s hair color clearly. It was dark blue with yellow in the root, not light green he thought. “Maybe it’s –”

Jiyong abruptly pulled him into a hug and words left his lungs in a form of breath.

“That’s it,” Jiyong smiled against his shoulder. They’re standing in the living room, chest to chest. “It’s you.”

“ _What_ me?”

“The melody. That song.”

He never asked about it because he heard a melody _too_ , a different one, came from Jiyong eventhough Jiyong didn’t sing at all.

***

“I thought we’re going out.”

Seungri lifts the lid of his cup to smell the drink. “It’s raining outside. What is this? Didn’t I order tea?”

“You told me to get dressed and come out from under my blanket to have breakfast in a café across my hotel?”

“Do you want my tea? Or is this a lemon soap…”

“Why don’t we just stay inside my room and order anything they have in their menu?”

“Because this café is popular for this drink and now I’m seriously disappointed.”

Jiyong sighs. “Switch with mine.”

“What’s yours?”

“The same.”

“Then what’s the point of switching it, genius?”

“So that you know we’re on the same _fucking_ boat, Seungri. What the heck is this anyway? Why is it so _freaking_ blue?”

“Try it.”

“Excuse you, _you_ try it.”

“What if I die?”

Jiyong rolls his eyes. “I’ll call ambulance.”

“Funny. Seriously though, it smelled like the soap my mom uses for the dishes.”

“Drink it. I’ll die after you, Juliet.”

Seungri holds his pinky out. “Promise?”

***

Sometimes to have is to give out.

Sometimes to feel is to be blind.

Sometimes to fight is waiting.

Sometimes to be able to hold is to let go.

***

“Youngbae–hyung will be here tomorrow morning.”

“Why did he tell you instead of me?”

“Maybe because he thought you’re busy.”

“Well, I’m not.”

The frown on Jiyong’s face makes Seungri laughs.

“Jealous that I might be Youngbae–hyung’s new bestfriend _forever_?”

“Jealous that he might steal you. You’re mine.”

It’s Jiyong’s usual joke, it’s always been his way to coax Seungri up, to entertain them both; Seungri to smile and himself to be pleased.

“I’m sorry,” Jiyong whispers because losing tastes like salt, so strong you’ll go numb. “I shouldn’t say that.”

Seungri doesn’t say anything so Jiyong walks a little faster, creating a distance until he’s sure he won’t run after Seungri.

***

They said you have to keep walking to keep you from falling down. That if you stopped running, you’d stumble down against the pavements.

But what if you fly and you’d still fall?

***

“So hyung, I forget.”

“About what?”

“Tomorrow,” Daesung sighs. “Help me.”

“You forget your own solo concert?” Jiyong raises his tone and Seungri mutter a silent _what_ from his driver seat. “The hell with you, Kang Daesung?!”

“I forget it’s Seunghyun–hyung’s birthday, hyung. Well, I still remember it last week and I thought I’d get him something later but then –no, you’re not allowed to laugh because you really have to help me,” the frustration sounds so real Jiyong has to keep himself from grinning.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Get him something and I’ll pay you?”

“No way. Go suffer with Seungri later.”

“Whom? What?” Seungri chimes in as the light flashes red. “Daesung–hyung?”

“He forgets about _the November fourth_ ,” Jiyong tells him and from the other end, Daesung makes a sound like a dying whale. “Maknaes combo, Seunghyun will be so mad. Good thing the party is after your concert or he’ll ruin it.”

Seungri sneers and drives left, past a car that colors so red even Jiyong hates it. “What will he do? Rolling on the stage crying?”

Jiyong can hear Daesung laughs. “You guys figure it out yourself, I’m not helping.”

“Oh seriously, I can’t go anywhere, hyung,” Daesung’s voice comes back to begging. “At least give me idea, guys!”

“I’ve been thinking about giving him _you_ ,” Seungri speaks to the phone Jiyong presses on his ear. “`Here’s Seunghyun–hyung, a babysitter for a lifetime`.”

“No, thank you,” Daesung sounds like he’s torn between laughing and crying.

“I didn’t say you have to agree,” Seungri grins and Jiyong ruffles his hair, putting back the phone on his own ear.

“Go get him a cake, he’ll forgive you.”

“How? I told you I can’t go anywhere!”

“That is your problem, sweetheart. Bye!”

Seungri watches Jiyong’s smile, counting silently in his head minutes to their own goodbye.

***


	29. A Famous Goodbye

There’s art in broken heart that will fit a gold frame because it’s color, Jiyong thinks, must be the darkest shade of black you won’t mistake it for something else. And if he hangs it on his wall, it will somehow bleed onto everything. Jiyong’s footprints will fade and his shadow will be ashamed.

That even if he put curtains on it, his world will still turn to night, one where stars will not come.

***

_“What are you reading?” Seungri dropped the groceries unceremoniously against the kitchen counter. Jiyong could hear the clank of diet Coke can, rolling out from the plastic bag and Seungri’s shrieked as he tried to catch it before it fell down._

_“Books,” he yawned, unaware that it’s only 8 p.m.._

_“Thanks, captain obvious. Seems like I’m not blind yet,” Seungri sat beside him. The scent he carried with him was rose._

_“Great,” Jiyong smiled because it would annoy Seungri. And because he knew, annoying Seungri means he’d stay longer. They’d successfully escaped their old dorm and now had moved to a shared apartment but Seungri had to go out almost everynight for parties or business they barely stayed long enough in the same room. “Glad to know that.”_

_“Funny,” Seungri scowled. He took something from his pocket, something that happened to be so small colored black and white._

_“What is that?”_

_“For you,” Seungri didn’t even bother to hide his excitement as he took Jiyong’s hand and put the item on his palm. It rolled against his skin, cold on the surface and rings so tiny it sounded like chirping._

_“A tiny panda charm,” Jiyong sneered, amused. “Or whatever this is.”_

_“Found it while cleaning my room,” Seungri shrugged. “Isn’t it cute?”_

_“Is it a new trick to tell the world how cute_ you _are?”_

_“Hell no. Maybe.”_

_“You’re not cute. Stop telling people you are,” but Jiyong laughed._

_“Then what I am?” Seungri dared to challenge, even as he seemed to shrink on his seat._

_“You’re Seungri.”_

_Jiyong should’ve been aware, should’ve known that it was a warning, how the word_ mine _almost escaped his tongue; that it’s be a beginning of all ends._

***

_It won’t be easier_ , that’s what Seungri acknowledges after all these times. Separation, no matter how it takes form, will never be easy. Number of how many times you’ve faced it, people you had to let go, memories that couldn’t be erased nor that it could be replaced, all are weight you’re going to learn to live with.

He sits behind the steering wheel, he turns the engine on. He makes his way out from the parking lot, the image of hotel where Jiyong stays in disappears from the rearview mirror when he turns right but everything feels so empty and wrong.

Was it how Jiyong felt? Was it why Jiyong had chosen not to see him leaving? Was it why, while shutting him out, while pushing him away, he never once tried to look Seungri in the eyes?

Was it the reason of _I love you_ Jiyong finally said after years of putting it in many forms but words?

Because when you’re letting go and breaking your love’s heart, yours is already broken to pieces, so ugly you couldn’t show to anyone?

Because when you let go, it took only a tiny courage to reach out and hold until your knuckles turn white and all your bones burnt?

Because when you let go, you know that you should, you wish that you could, but understand that there’s no way you would?

***

If someone ever asked him, Jiyong would say that fate is like thumbprint of human. It’s unique. Sometimes it’s so opposite side you can tell without seeing. Sometimes the difference is subtle you think it’s the same. But it’s not.

It’s never.

And it’s his own motivation to face tomorrow, that Seungri would not face the same fate of grieving and terrible losing Jiyong had nightmares about. That he will let him know he’d done the best and saved them both.

By tomorrow, he would do everything to convince them both that it’s for the best.

***

“Let me guess,” Seunghyun stares at his empty glass. “You forget my birthday.”

Jiyong sneers. “Actually, I’m the one who remember.”

“Oh,” he frowns. Jiyong will tell him not to be five but _heck_ with that, how come nobody remember his _fucking_ birthday?

“No pouting, big boy.”

“I am and I will,” he’s stubborn against his old friend and it’s alright. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Jiyong sighs and Seunghyun presses the phone closer on his ear. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel.”

“Sounds not fine,” Seunghyun pours himself another glass of orange juice –because that’s what available in his hotel room –not sure if he has to run to comfort Jiyong or let him solve it by himself. “What happened?”

“Guess what.”

“Jiyong,” Seunghyun shakes his head. “I’ve done shit organizing a _nice_ party and nobody remember my birthday so no, I’m not in for _guessing game_. Spill it.”

“Well,” Jiyong chuckles. “First of all, congratulations on growing up, Choi Seunghyun.”

“What’s the second?”

“I think I broke up but I’m not sure.”

“With Seungri?”

“No, with you.”

“Oh, sorry boyfriend. Or should I call you ex–boyfriend?”

“How come it’s not even funny?” Jiyong stares at the window.

“You can’t break up when it’s not even a relationship yet, Jiyong,” Seunghyun isn’t sure of his own statement. “Where is Seungri?”

Seunghyun waits for answer and time stretches to eternity.

“Everywhere,” Jiyong’s voice cracks when he speaks again.

_Everywhere but there_ , Seunghyun finishes Jiyong’s sentence in his head.

***

What’s funny about loss is that you can’t always see it. You can but not _really_. It’s a color in the air but when you squint your eyes, it doesn’t appear. It lies within pages of book you’re reading but you don’t find any words of it. It’s when you walk on the street and you finally recognize small bookstore beside your favorite coffee shop as if you don’t walk past it everyday.

As you turn around, you know that you’ll never be the same anymore.

***

The words suddenly seemed so tiny his brain refuses to read. And it’s tangled with feelings he knows will stay for about…a lifetime.

“I love you,” Seungri says, foggy and thick of fear, not because he shouldn’t but because he couldn’t. A _goodbye_ turns out not all about tears and never see each other again. Somehow, it’s about keeping strong and facing your treasure, knowing that no matter what, it doesn’t belong to you.

“I’ll miss you,” he tells himself.

***


	30. How?

Morning falls like guillotine. Sunlight peeks from the curtain like it’s not invited, waking up Jiyong, who’s never really asleep. Question running in his mind as he slips from under the blanket to the soft slippers that’s white.

_How do you say goodbye?_

***

SH : _How come I am the first one arrive???_

Seunghyun’s message appears in the pop up screen, distracting him from his morning coffee.

YB : _Dope congratz!_

He almost spit his coffee out. Youngbae is still pulling his old jokes and who knows when will it ever end?

SH : _Don’t whatever congratz me. Get your ass over here._

Jiyong laughs. They will never ever get old.

DS : _I had to read twice to make sure it’s Seunghyun–hyung._

BIGBANG is bunch of kids and jokes are always mean because that’s how they fight against the world. That’s how they bond.

SR : _Huh, Daesung–hyung? It means YOU are not even there yet?_

Seungri chimes in the chat with lots of panda stickers. Jiyong is the only one so far who hasn’t send any message.

SH : _Kwon Jiyong I know you’re reading. Come here ASAP and rescue me._

“Busted,” Jiyong mutters under his breath, smiling. “Sorry, Seunghyun.”

SH : _Where’s the bathroom??_

It’s Seunghyun again, sounds like emergency.

DS : _Ask someone, hyung, I’m on my way._

Nice advice Kang Daesung.

SH : _Everybody is VERY busy?????? And it’s only five people here???????????_

Jiyong has to hide his grin with his hand because his manager is coming and people start to notice him.

SH : _And how come I haven’t heard any happy birthday hyung yet?????????????????_

***

_“Yo.”_

_Jiyong grinned at her, shifted to the side to let her inside the elevator. “How are you doing?”_

_“Great, just back from vacation. You?” Dara, who looked like she’d never get old, was wearing a white shirt with sunflowers pattern. “Saw you on the news.”_

_“Busy. I have so many people to please.”_

_Dara smiled. “But never really yourself.”_

_Jiyong shrugged. “I don’t feel very pleased recently. Probably I should use some vacation too.”_

_“You should. How come you are skinnier than me?”_

_“I’m still taller.”_

_Dara hit him on the head. “I’m still older.”_

_Jiyong laughed. “Yes, noona.”_

_“Your new album is coming out next month?”_

_“Is it also all over the news in Vietnam?”_

_“Honestly,” Dara sighed. “It’s the news everywhere.”_

_“Then yes, it is.”_

_“Chaerin said you weren’t so nice during recording.”_

_“I never did,” Jiyong stuck his tongue out to mock, to joke._

_But Dara looked at him in his eyes. “You used to be nicer.”_

_“I don’t know that?”_

_She thought to herself. “You know, Jiyong, sometimes it’s like being in the elevator.”_

_“What?”_

_“Like you’re moving but not actually moving, you know? You have to step out of it,” Dara said as she got out of the glass–metal box._

***

“I’ve survived your weird outfits before,” Youngbae says. “Glad to know that I don’t have to get through that today.”

“Shut up,” Jiyong smacks his arm. “I miss you too.”

Youngbae gives him a friendly shove just as one of the make-up artist, who seems so young and have dimple on each of her cheeks, comes in the room with the one and only Daesung with Seunghyun tailing behind him, his phone glued to his right hand.

“Hyung!” Daesung runs to them, his signature smile on his face practically ripping the skin to two. Seunghyun scowls lightly because apparently he _is filming_ Daesung. The youngest rolls his eyes.

“Where’s Seungri?” is Seunghyun’s question and he’s looking right to Jiyong.

“Here,” as if it was summon, Seungri makes his way to them. He’s wearing black ripped jeans and hat Jiyong recognizes coming from his Peaceminusone store. “Miss me already?”

“You’re the one who haven’t wished me _happy birthday hyung_ yet,” Seunghyun clicks his tongue.

Jiyong watches them lost in their own friendly fight and Daesung casually slips from the war to change his shirt.

“How are you?” Youngbae asks.

_Maybe there’s no way to say goodbye_ , Jiyong supposes. _Maybe there’s never of it_. “I’ll be fine,” he’s not sure which one of them he’s trying to convince. “I should be.”

Youngbae squeezes his shoulder.

***

It sucks to have something you treasure the most being taken away from you. It’s somehow understandable if you stand vigil to protect it. Sometimes, it’s hard to say which side is wrong and which side is right in a war, everybody has reason to be both.

How about losing something that you never really had? How about losing something that nobody knows was yours?

 

_Nobody knows._

_We always know._

***

Daesung’s present for Seunghyun turns out to be a cake as Jiyong suggested, a very big and square cake with various toppings which presented by his dancers during his final MC session. Seunghyun, whose face turns red immediately and wears a grin as large as Jupiter, squeals on his seat nearly crushing Youngbae with his hug. He doesn’t even wait until the guards come to guide him, already running to the stage when fangirls scream startles him. Youngbae shakes his head but eventually cheering up for a greedy and suddenly shy Seunghyun who put on his cool face and throwing finger–hearts to any direction.

Jiyong’s attention, however, is occupied with Seungri who was too busy laughing to notice he almost fell from his seat. When Jiyong grabbed his arm to prevent the younger man from embarrassing himself –and landing on his butt –Seungri turned to him, didn’t even pause to thank him or at least to acknowledge the fact that Jiyong was too close to his face.

“Did you see that? He even shoved Daesung–hyung aside,” Seungri claps like seal, eyes focused back to the comedy scene playing on stage where Daesung refuses to give Seunghyun a plastic knife and the latter being a genius, scoops the cream with his bare hand.

Seungri’s laughter rings in his ears. For a while, it seems like the world narrows down to only them two.

_This_.

There’s no other word that fit, no doubt when Jiyong squeezes Seungri’s hand, about what he really wants to protect, about what he wishes to keep, about what he knows better to let go.

 

_This._

***

“So, hyung,” Youngbae says in disbelief. “You actually _know_ how to organize a party.”

“Yep,” Seunghyun pours the wine. “Give me your glass.”

“Well, I don’t expect _this_ when you said `party`,” Daesung joins in, now dressed in a leather jacket and jeans. His sneakers squeak as he walks toward their table. “I mean…this just five of us and food and wine and…well, dinner.”

Seunghyun looks at him, annoyed. “You told me _no crazy party, hyung, I still need to perform the day after_ , remember?”

Daesung sits beside him. “That’s why I said it’s better to have it tomorrow, we don’t have to worry about –”

“Daesung, honey,” Seunghyun’s aegyo takes place. Seungri tries so hard not to sneer, Youngbae and Jiyong watch the show as if it’s being put there for their entertainment. “ _Tomorrow_ is not my birthday.”

Daesung’s eyes go wide as he clasps his hand on his mouth, the other palm lands on his chest. “You’re right, Seunghyun–hyung.”

“If you’re done being dramatic,” Jiyong’s manager suddenly stands beside their table. “I’d love to –”

“You’re ruining the scene,” Seunghyun’s shoulders slump as he pouts.

“Your ticket,” Jiyong’s manager doesn’t even bother to roll his eyes. After all, it’s not his first time caught BIGBANG’s antique. “You sure?”

“I am,” Jiyong tucks it safely in his pocket. “Thanks.”

“Have fun. Oh, Daesung, it was amazing!”

“Thanks,” Daesung grins but eventually shifts his eyes back to Jiyong. “What ticket? Are you going somewhere?”

“Home,” Jiyong answers, not trusting himself to look at anyone, let alone Seungri who stiffens on his seat beside him. “Plane tomorrow morning.”

“I thought you’ll stay until tomorrow,” Seungri sounds like he’s million miles away.

“I shouldn’t,” Jiyong mutters, sure that nobody hear it but himself.

***


	31. Au Revoir

Bruise is a reminder that your body had been hurt. Scars are stories, or Jiyong would rather say, melodies.

But what to call open wound he cannot see?

***

Seungri isn’t sure if he should trust Seunghyun to organize a _party_ ever again or not. It’s started just fine; only five of them in a secluded room had been reserved in advance with seveal of food –it’s a Japanese food restaurant and God knows how could they manage to serve them rice and kimchi and steak and lots of meat also French fries and cakes with lots of candles, but no soup–and bottles of wine, all phones being put inside Seunghyun’s bag in the name of privacy and friendship. Daesung stood up and said thanks for everyone gathering in his concert then called for the birthday boy – _hyung_ –to stand up and say something. By something, Seunghyun actually talked for a full ten minutes about what and how he felt that after so many things they’ve done individually after the disbandment, they finally managed to have this kind of meeting on his birthday. Youngbae clapped and Jiyong rose his glass but Seunghyun told them to sit back because _no_ he’s not done yet. Seungri had to refrain himself from sighing because Seunghyun then started to talk about his art exhibition and this and that and his thought about adopting a Persian kitten. Given opportunity for sitting beside Seunghyun, Daesung sneakily take his bowl, so slow and quiet compared to Seunghyun’s speech, and eventually starting to eat his rice. Jiyong, Youngbae and Seungri who were sitting on the opposite side could only stare with jealousy as Seunghyun went on.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Youngbae finally said, grabbing his own bowl of rice that must be cold by now. Seungri wasn’t sure what he meant but Youngbae himself seemed not sure about it either.

Seunghyun grinned. “Great! Can we eat now? I’m starving.”

Daesung, whose bowl was already half empty, hiccupped. “Pass me the water, please?”

“No,” Jiyong and Seungri said in unison, mocking him as they greedily chewed on their food.

***

_“Hyung,” he was startled, his chest felt like thunderstorm, his breath was caught in his throat. “What are you doing here?”_

_Jiyong barely spared him a glance. “Writing. Go back to sleep.”_

_Seungri’s heart slowed down and Jiyong’s fingers on his ear slowly lulled him back to sleep. “In my bed?”_

_Jiyong hit his forehead with his pencil, twice. “Go back to sleep.”_

_Seungri snuggled closer to him which earned him another hit and fell asleep._

_When he woke up, Jiyong’s gone._

***

“Seungri?”

“Hmm,” he blinks, unaware of how many times had passed since he excused himself from the dinner to go to the restroom. “Yeah?”

“Jiyong is worried,” Youngbae lowers his gaze from Seungri’s stunned face. “I know what happened.”

“What did happen?” but it was more a question to himself. Seungri felt rage washes over him and his stomach churned. “Do I ever know what is _fucking_ happening?”

“Seungri.”

“Do I want to know? Will someone tell me what the _fuck_ is happening?”

“Seungri,” Youngbae walks closer until he can touch Seungri’s shoulder, which by now, shaking badly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Seungri’s eyes are crystal of tears and his voice are shattered glass that when he speaks, it cuts through Youngbae’s skin. “Why is it happening to me?”

There’s only void sound for a while until Seungri speaks again.

“I’m sorry, hyung,” he looks at the mirror, the reflection of himself he can’t recognize anymore. “It hurts _too_ much.”

***

“So hyung,” Daesung whispers because Seunghyun is snoring already. “Seems like things are great?”

Jiyong doesn’t dare to break another heart of his friend. “Yeah.”

“What _yeah_?”

“I hope it’s great, Daesung.”

“Oh,” just like that, Daesung’s eyes lost its light. “Did Seungri…”

“No,” Jiyong shakes his head. “It’s not him, it’s me.”

“For years I’ve learned that it’s both of you or neither,” Daesung shrugs. “I’ll talk to him, okay?”

“I’d do the same thing if I were him,” Jiyong offers him a smile. “In fact, I already done the same four years ago.”

“And this is repeating history?”

“This time,” Jiyong glances to the closed door, wondering what’s happening to Youngbae and Seungri. “It’s different.”

“What’s the difference, hyung?”

Jiyong closes his eyes and the image of Seungri dances behind his eyelids. “This time, I know exactly what’s going to happen. This time, I know exactly where to find him…This time as I let go, I’ll watch until I can’t watch him anymore.”

Daesung looks like he’s troubled in finding words. “Seungri…loves you.”

“I know,” Jiyong nods. “And I love him too.”

***

Love is stupid.

So are you.

So am I.

But fate is smarter if not stronger.

***

“Take Jiyong–hyung back to his hotel,” it’s almost a command, which is unusual coming from Daesung.

Seunghyun, drowsy from quick sleep, gazes back and forth between the two maknaes. “Did you two fight or something?”

“Something,” Youngbae shoves him to the backseat. Seunghyun’s manager nods in gratitude for saving him the trouble. “I’ll go back home tomorrow night.”

“Thanks for coming, hyung. Good luck and be careful, okay?” Daesung hugs him as Seunghyun rolls the window down.

“Are you guys keeping secret from me?”

Youngbae has to sigh to resign himself from sneering.

Daesung slips smoothly beside Seunghyun and waves them goodbye with the oldest man still trying to grasp on the situation. Youngbae shakes his head and smiles but eventually realizes the unsinkable wall between Jiyong and Seungri. “Take care, okay?”

Seungri nods. “Be careful, hyung.”

“You don’t have to,” Jiyong tells Seungri as soon as Youngbae’s car disappears in the night, who’s been quietly staring at the pavements. “I’ll ask my manager to pick me up.”

“I want to.”

***

When your heart stops, you die. You become part of someone’s past; sometimes a story, sometimes a forgotten part.

When your heart goes missing, you suffer a heartbeat. Everyday becomes another day of not having it back, of keeping it out from memories, of cradling the lost between your hands like a secret.

***

“What time is your flight tomorrow?”

It’s starting to rain.

“Seven,” Jiyong turns his face so that he doesn’t have to see Seungri. Or read his face. Or wanting to say more than he should.

“Business trip?” Seungri’s car turns right and Jiyong can make out the line of tall buildings that happen to be his hotel.

“Just a trip.”

It’s a silence then and outside, is a downpour.

“I hope it’s not because you’re running away from me,” Seungri forces out a laugh that fool neither of them and his car comes to a stop.

“I’m not,” Jiyong reaches to touch his hand that’s gripping tight on the steering wheel. _I’m running away from myself, if possible._

“I’m sorry,” it’s the soft wrecked tone that breaks Jiyong’s resolution. It’s the thickness of fears, of tears that drives him blank.

The next thing he knows is that Seungri still smell of flowers and cherry, his fingers are as smooth as he remembers and his lips are trying to fill all the empty pieces that’s gone missing from Jiyong’s life. He pulls back immediately and Seungri’s eyes are half–closed, his breath creates cloud under the slowly decreasing temperature.

“No,” Jiyong tries to swallow but he’s thirsty, the bitterness settles in his throat like swords. “ _I am_ so sorry.”

Seungri trembles in his hold. His palms, still bracketing the younger’s face, slide to Seungri’s shoulder. “I love you, hyung. I always have. I only want to save –we can’t…I just –”

“I love you too,” Jiyong takes a deep breath for them both. “I always will.”

Then he runs out to the pouring rain and separation.

***


	32. Intro : Kwon Jiyong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jiyong's POV

I call it _magician_. One time I’m an entertainer, then next I’m the healer. I make things disappear and I bring many more to the surface. I write, I sing, I listen, I keep silent. I present surprise, I run from the uproars. You can see me and you wonder if I’ve been there at all.

My world tour ended up in a great success that set me being interviewed countless times by magazines and television programs I didn’t keep track of. I sang on so many stages, I even spoke in English during the first MC session on my last stage in Seoul.

My heart, however, still a ruin, one that I keep silently under my sleeves.

Let me tell you something.

Seungri didn’t call my name when I ran out _that_ night. I waited in the airport until they had to come to get me in the plane because they couldn’t _just_ call out for Kwon Jiyong through the speaker without causing a chaos.

That in the end, I didn’t get to see him the day I left.

I’ve smiled until my cheeks hurt, I’ve laughed until I couldn’t breathe and one time, I got so drunk that I passed out in my living room. When I woke up, the void in my chest was still there, a hole and never seemed to be smaller. I learned to live with it.

I miss him, everyday, _every minute_ , if you want a dramatic line. I poured him in songs, some I gave out to the crowd, the rest I kept inside my drawer. _This_ , I’d say to myself everytime I go out. _Is what he wanted me to be_.

I ignored his call on my birthday and I didn’t say anything on his birthday a week ago either.

I know that I too, wouldn’t dare to rob him from a life he’s living right now. You think I’m a jerk and maybe him an idiot for letting us go.

But I love him. And he loves me too. In the world I’m living in, it’s apparently not _always_ enough.

 

I watch the first snow falls.

It’s been a year.

***

_“Time machine,” Seungri said in the dark. His eyes were shining despite the light. “Where do you want to go?”_

_“Is there such thing?”_

_Seungri shrugged although it’s hard to tell since he’s lying on his side. “Just if?”_

_I was so tired I could fall asleep standing on my legs. “I don’t know. Maybe that time when I had chance to rest.”_

_“I want to go to the future.”_

_“To see if you have a beautiful girlfriend?”_

_“To see if you’ll have one,” Seungri shifted under the blanket we’re sharing. “Have you ever worried about your future, hyung?”_

_“We’ll be fine, I’m making the next hit song. Now sleep.”_

_“Not us,” Seungri sneered. “You. Yourself.”_

_“Of course,” I lied. “Myself.”_

***

Christmas spirit is contagious. You can find the festive mood in every corner of the street, any version of Santa in every store, green–red–and white decoration everywhere.

However, it doesn’t magically transfer me home nor that it helps with the traffic.

“I’m stuck,” I skip the greeting part. “Can you get me out of here?”

“Not without causing a fuss,” my manager says. “Be careful, I’ll let the team know that you’ll be late.”

“Thanks,” I disconnect the line, throwing my phone to the backseat aimlessly. I can hear car honks in the distance as if it’d make the street less clearer from people and vehicles.

I don’t know what I expect but I turn on the radio instead of playing the usual tracks I had listened thousand times.

“Good afternoon.”

The voice startles me that I skip a breath, or possibly a heartbeat.

“It’s been a long time, Seungri,” the announcer says, her voice sounds like a fallen leaf being carried away by the wind. I don’t recognize her but I’d recognize Seungri’s laughter anywhere. “How are you doing?”

“It’s nice to comeback,” Seungri answers and I picture him smiling. His white teeth and the curl of his upper lip, the way his eyes lit up like campfire. “I’m fine, a little bit cold today, isn’t it?”

“With your presence here, I can’t really feel the freezing weather,” the announcer laughs. “Anyway, it’s an honor to have you here, Seungri. What brought you here today?”

“Christmas,” Seungri speaks. “And I really want to meet someone.”

“Someone special?”

“Yes, very special.”

I don’t know I’ve been holding my breath until I hear a loud sound coming from my back. I turn my head to see but something so bright catches my heart in my throat as it’s coming closer. I’m too stunned to move, just as the world falls into utter silence I realize it’s a truck spinning on the street like broken ballerina.

***

You know that short moment when you wake up and you can’t remember anything from previous days nor that you know what you’re going to do later?

The mere second when everything seems to be okay.

That moment when you’re still caught in between dreams and reality like it’s the same thing; like the fact that you’re alive is the _only_ thing that matters.

***

_“I love you, hyung.”_

_“Well, I expect you to. We’re sharing apartment and I don’t wish you to poison my coffee,” I sneered._

_“It’s not like that,” Seungri’s face was round, his cheeks were flushed red. “I love you as a man. I love you…like a lover does.”_

_I felt the words sunk into me through my skin, the way they invaded my brain and my blood as if they’re a spell that transform me into a stone. I could feel butterflies in my stomach and I had to grip on my mug so that I wouldn’t fly along with the flutters of their wings._

_“Love is not for me, Seungri,” I heard myself. “Love is not something I can give or receive.”_

_What I really wanted to say was: I don’t want to hurt you. What I really meant was that he_ shouldn’t _love me. There must be reasons why my lovelife always ended in sad songs instead of happy ones._

_“Still, I love you.”_

_When he kissed me, I touched the sun and the entire galaxy exploded behind my eyes like sunset._

_“I won’t promise you anything, I can’t,” I told him, still caught in the magic of his touch. He’s still so near I could taste the air he breathed out, yet I already missed him._

_I wondered how long it’d last until I break him, until he could not look at me in the eyes anymore._

***

“Who told you I died?” I can’t really move and my voice, when I try to speak, sounds funny like a broken toy. When I woke up yesterday, I was so disoriented I couldn’t even remember _myself_. My mom had dissolved into tears the moment I called for her. _It’s like the first time you called me ‘eomma’,_ she said.

He blinks back his tears and despite the ache, I reach to touch his face. “Actually,” he swallows. He’s wearing a white turtleneck shirt and only his left ear has earring on it. “Everyone has been trying to convince me that you’re going to live.”

“I don’t have the nerve to die, Seungri,” I say. I watch him watching me and I wonder if that stare still posses its power to heal me.

“I won’t fogive you if you leave,” he sniffs.

“Why would I do that? I have award ceremonies to attend,” I want to crack a joke, so bad that I don’t care if I’ll break my bones from laughing.

“Yeah,” he smiles and it brightens the room a little. I can smell fresh air and scent of lilies (probably from Youngbae). I see nobody else but him.

“How long have you been here?”

“Your parents are out for lunch,” he leans back on his seat, a chair that had been dragged to be beside my hospital bed. “Dami–noona went home, so I volunteered.”

“To watch me sleeping? You pervert.”

He looks at me and I want to paint colors on his pale cheeks, cherry blossoms on his lips, moonlight on his eyes. “To wait for you to wake up.”

***

_“I’m sorry,” I repeated. I was all over the news, I was sick of hearing my name being shouted here and there. “I really am.”_

_“I don’t hate you, hyung,” he said. “I would never hate you.”_

_I stumbled into his hold. “But I disappointed you. I made you cry.”_

_“I’m here,” his touches were feathers soft it rubbed the edges of my pain. “I won’t leave you.”_

You’re going to get hurt _, I wanted to say but I fell asleep without the chance to actually say it._

_Years later, when I pushed him out of my life, I wished I’d given him that warn._

***

“Let me guess,” I close my eyes. “Is it a princess?”

The twins giggle and hide their drawing. “No!” they say in unison.

Youngbae clicks his tongue. “Don’t be too loud, sweethearts.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m fine.”

“Say that after you get discharged,” Youngbae scowls and I can’t blame him. I have bandages all over my skin except my head, one that I feel so grateful about or else I’d get a new nickname, mummy. Also because Youngbae had flown here as soon as he heard the news about me. “You scared us all.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s not technically my fault but I feel guilty anyway. “I’ll be careful.”

Youngbae is going to say something but then there’s a knock on the door and the twins running to open it, screaming joyfully to find their mom standing behind it. If there’s anything I’m jealous about Youngbae, it’s the fact that I know I won’t live the life pattern like his. And I’m so lucky to have a friend who thinks that it’s perfectly normal to be different.

“I’ll take them home, you can stay here,” she smiles to his husband and then to me. “Did they disturb your sleep?” she gestures to the babies.

“No,” I laugh. “They’re helping me through the boredom, to be honest.”

“I’m glad. I wish you speed recovery, Jiyong.”

“Thank you, noona,” I nod at her. “Youngbae, you should just go home. You look like a zombie.”

At the mention of the creature, the twins scream.

“I didn’t mean to scare them,” I try to explain.

Youngbae holds his daughters and laughs. “They think zombie will eat our dogs and steal their crayons.”

I resist the urge to laugh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’ll be fine by yourself?” Youngbae hesitates. “I can call your mom –”

“Unfortunately, I’m not a mom,” Daesung’s voice chimes in to the room like summer. His smile is as wide as ocean and when his eyes meet mine, it’s softened. “But I can act like one.”

***


	33. Untitled: Seungri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seungri's POV

I love him.

That, I can easily say as if it’s a breathing. I can lost myself in new hobbies, I can squeeze myself into crowded space, I can go to the end of planet Earth, yet I’d always know where I belong.

I can pretend that I’m home although I know I won’t ever be.

Not without him.

It’s impossible to stop thinking about him. After all, he’s literally _everywhere_. It doesn’t matter where I go, he seems to be able to find me.

Or that I’d be looking for him.

I don’t regret anything. I suppose if you want to delude yourself, if you strongly belive that you’re doing the right thing, you’ll find excuses and reasons out of everything. I could go to him, I could beg him to stay. I could change my mind, cross my own decision. I could look at him dead in the eyes and took everything back.

And I still wonder about it everyday, questioning if I _should_.

_One more day_ , I’d tell myself whenever I felt the salt closing in my throat, whenever that bittersweet songs of his played on. _One more day of not ruining his life._

I want him to have the life so badly I start to forget mine.

***

_“You’re supposed to be home.”_

_I tried to find my voice but even it judged me. “He said it was emergency.”_

_Jiyong stormed toward me so fast like lightning. I prepared myself for a thunderstorm but his arms wrapped around me like clouds, so light I hardly believed I was surrounded by him._

_“I was worried,” he said, those words riveting through the hem of my shirt until it settled inside my memory. “You could’ve been hurt.”_

_I forgot to breathe, I forgot that it was indeed an emergency, that I never really told him I’d be home the time he came back._

_“I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll be alright,” because that’s how it always felt when he’s around._

***

“Seungri.”

I turn around. “Hyung.”

Sometimes, I swear, Daesung looks like he’s 20. He’s older than me, and by older I meant not only his age but his perpective and well, many other things. But then again, our style is different. Today, his outfit is a black sweater and jeans and his checkered black–white Vans’s shoes. His hair is colored grey and blue, cut out short it frames his face like the time he had during his _D-Day_ promotion days.

“I was looking for you,” he says. Here, in hospital, people barely notice us. I guess it’s because they come here to grieve or to celebrate about something bigger than themselves. They have no time to pay attention to other people, their energy had been wasted for someone else, something else more important.

“Is Jiyong–hyung okay?” I feel like I’m going to be sick. When I was told about his accident, I barely felt the ground beneath my feet. I couldn’t remember the ride or the run or how could I find his room or what did I say to his parents.

Colors must be draining from my face because Daesung smiles. “He’s fine, I just want to talk to you.”

Just like that, the knot in my stomach unfurls.

“Do you want some tea? Or coffee?” I begin to search for my wallet. “They have juices too, but their orange juice is bad.”

“Tea is fine.”

I nod. “Okay.”

***

I miss Jiyong terribly.

For years, I’ve been keeping myself from looking out for him because he had thrown me out of his life. After I learned _how_ and _why_ , I found myself like a broken dam, reaching every corner to find out what I’ve been missing. I’d bought magazines with articles about him, I’d watched every show with him in it, I once bought his concert ticket but I chickened out the last minute and waited outside the venue until it’s done.

I thought it would be easier when I was the one who asked him to be out of my life, I’ve never been so wrong.

I couldn’t help but wish that at least it did him right.

***

“I was scared too,” Daesung starts, his cup of tea steaming before him, creating illusion that if you blink, he might disappear. “I couldn’t think straight.”

Here’s the way when someone knows you so much you don’t even need to say a word.

“Me too,” I admit. “I don’t even remember how I got here.”

“Well,” I’ve seen Daesung’s smile countless times and never once it’s not calming me down. Even those times when our bond was less strong, when we were so awkward I made list of excuses to be not in the same room as him, everytime he smiled I feel like it’s going to be okay. “At least you didn’t scare your manager to death that he showed up in front of your house still in his bathrobe.”

I laugh. “I should tell him how lucky he was.”

“You should,” Daesung sips his tea. “I was so glad when I heard you’re already here, in Korea.”

“Hmm.”

“You didn’t tell me you’re coming home.”

I shrug. “I didn’t tell anyone either.”

Daesung’s eyes meet mine and I know what he’s going to ask even before he takes a breath to actually speak it out.

“I just wanted to see him,” I say. “Do you think I’m the _bad luck_?”

“I don’t know you believe such thing.”

I hardly know what I believe anymore. “I was just…thinking.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“About me. About Jiyong–hyung. About everything.”

“Like a qualm?”

There were times I was certain this hyung was sort of mind reader. “Maybe. But I don’t regret it.”

“Because you _shouldn’t_?” Daesung asks but I highly doubt it’s still a question between us.

“I want to make him happy,” I stir another spoonful of sugar into my coffee. “But sometimes I don’t know how.”

“Seungri,” Daesung’s voice is slightly wrecked. That scares me, I admit. “I don’t think love is lucid like that.”

“It’s not that…Have you ever been in love?”

“That’s out of the blue,” he laughs and I notice the hesitation in it. “Yes, of course.”

“You never told me about it,” I blink, stunned with the fact that I know so less about him. “Are you still in love?”

“Are you?” he raises his eyebrows. “It’s not a faucet. You can’t turn it on and off just like _that_.”

“Are you scared?” I realize that I’m asking myself instead of him. “Have you ever wish that…”

“Terrified,” Daesung looks down and I close my eyes, trying to grip on our conversation, for the first time I see that I’ve been hurting more people than just myself and Jiyong.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I should’ve asked you, I should’ve…I don’t know…pay attention instead of just…”

“You’re confused,” Daesung brushes it off. “And I’m the man of secrets.”

“I can’t argue with that, hyung.”

“You shouldn’t.”

For a while we savor the silence.

“Seungri.”

“Yeah?”

Daesung looks at me but I have slight vision that he’s not really looking at me. “Do you believe in afterlife?”

“What?” I frown. “Like reincarnation?”

“Like that,” he struggles to explain. “Like you’ll meet again with me in the next life…that you can start over?”

I think about it and shake my head. “I don’t.”

“Then?”

I try to read his mind but failing as always. “Then what?”

Daesung sighs. “Then Seungri, go back to Jiyong–hyung because I have an appointment.”

“Now?”

He stares at me for the longest time before he nods. “Now, Seungri. Now.”

***

_“I love you too. I always will.”_

_I watched him ran out of my life. Rain fell like stars on the windowpane, but I couldn’t think of a single wish. What’s the point of wishing when you knew that you couldn’t keep it?_

_Our times together came up in my mind as white and black videos played backward._

_I remembered his smile, I remembered his laughter, I remembered his words, I remembered the day he didn’t want me, I remembered those times when he let me hear his heartbeat._

Time machine.

I know exactly where I wanted to go now.

“Back,” I whispered and it’s thick with fog but nothing could fight the cold inside my chest. “Before.”

***

He’s skinny. Technically, he always is, but in a white room like this, with IV attached to his body as if it’s a lifeline and bandages covering most of his skin, he looks nothing like Jiyong.

I watch his eyes flutter open from slumber, I savor the rise and fall of his chest.

“Hey,” he whispers when he notices me standing by the door. “Welcome back.”

**_“Like you’ll meet again with me in the next life…that you can start over?”_ **

I feel dizzy like the room falls away and it spins I can’t hold onto anything. I feel like being swallowed by quicksand of realization and truth, the more I kick the more I drown.

“Seungri?” his voice is rhapsody. “Come here, are you okay?”

I shake my head. I don’t know and I’m not sure if I’m going to find out anytime soon. “No.”

“Are you sick? What happened?” he tries to rise from the bed, his face scrunches up in pain but his eyes are boring in to me. “I’ll call the nurse, sit down.”

I laugh but it comes out a sob. “Hyung.”

“I say sit down, Seungri,” he fumbles to push the emergency button attached to a cable on his hospital bed.

“You’re going to hate me,” I say. His head spins to look at me as if I’m crazy but I don’t mind.

“You’re crazy,” he blurts out. “I’m not going to hate you,” he adds softly. “What happened?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I need to go.”

“Seungri.”

“I’ll be back,” when he turns to look away from me, I whisper, “I promise.”

****

**_“Now.”_ **

***

_He was bored and I was bouncing on my seat._

_“I’m trying to sleep, Seungri.”_

_I stuck my tongue out at him. “No, you’re not. You’re just as excited as me.”_

_He hit my head but it didn’t hurt. He never meant to hurt me, that’s what I’ve learned. “Stop acting like a cowboy, you’re going to make us fall.”_

_As if it was a cue, the plane began to shake and for a while I couldn’t breathe. The next moment, I clutched onto his arm for dear life._

_He chuckled on top of my head and because I pressed my face close onto his neck, it sounded like a rumble. “Don’t worry, I was just kidding.”_

_“What was that?” I was still caught in shock and fear. “Cloud? A storm?”_

_“Maybe,” he patted my head. “It’s okay.”_

_Suddenly I didn’t want to sit near the window anymore. “What if we fall?”_

_“We won’t, Seungri.”_

_“But what if?”_

_“Well, we fall together.”_

_“We die,” I say. The next thought striken me like thunderbolt. “You’ll die.”_

_He sneered. “Thanks for the imagination.”_

_“No,” I shook my head. I’ve never been this close to death to understand it before. I thought that I’d be terrified of leaving everything behind but now I knew that what even scarier was being left behind. “How about me?”_

_Jiyong raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t I say that we’d fall together?”_

***

Will this go away after time passes?

I remember the old times.

I remember you.

***

I don’t know how I look like but it must be a whole lot of a mess.

“I can’t promise you,” my manager finally says. “But I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you,” that’s all I can say. “I know I’m ruining everything.”

“Actually Seungri,” he manages to laugh despite what I just told him. “It’s not gonna be the first time.”

“I know,” I nod. “I’m so sorry.”

***

_I love you today._

_A little too much than I did yesterday._

_Must be less than I’d do tomorrow._

_I love you._


	34. Outro

Fifty–eight.

That’s how many days had passed since Seungri’s leaving.

It’s been fifty days since Jiyong got discharged from the hospital. Sitting on his rocking chair, Jiyong wonders if Seungri’s promise was just as empty as his house now. If whatever it was –he couldn’t remember clearly –has anything to do with a regret or an attempt to forget.

He picks his phone and counts to ten.

Still no messages.

***

Seungri’s suitcase is not heavy but he feels weary nonetheless. He hears the speaker announces the next flight to Hong Kong to be delayed for fifteen minutes and a family in front of him sigh in unison.

His sneakers today is tosca that matches neither his shirt nor his pants. He wishes nobody would snap a picture and make him as tomorrow’s joke all over the media.

“Your passport, Sir.”

“Oh, here.”

“Enjoy your flight.”

Seungri wants to, of course.

***

I wish I could meet you in my dreams

And love you again

Just like this.

***

Jiyong throws another paper plane to the air, watching them fly the land in random pattern on his carpet.

He should be writing, words don’t want to shut up in his head but he doesn’t want to. Everytime he writes, no matter how good it’s started, he couldn’t seem to find a good _end_. He has to do something or else he’ll fly out with his car. Maybe to Seunghyun’s house. Maybe to Youngbae’s, but he will disturb the family. Daesung is not usually available after 5 p.m., unfortunately.

Or he could just go out and be wherever his feet wants him to be.

But he doesn’t feel like putting effort for being in incognito.

Feeling stranded, he lies down and closes his eyes. He can feel paper planes scattered around him like dead butterflies.

_Where do you want to be?_

It’s Seungri’s voice from ten years ago, when they stood in front of a huge world map.

_Los Angeles._

_We’ll be there in two days, hyung._

_So? The faster we get there, the sooner we’ll be done._

_Then where would you rather be?_

 

Jiyong stares at the ceiling. “With you,” he says out loud.

***

Seungri remembers the path like the back of his hand. He’s been tracing it countless times in his head. He’s been counting days.

“Seungri?”

He blinks. “What.”

“Should I kick you out?” his manager rolls his eyes.

***

_“Do you love me?”_

_“I do.”_

_“How much?”_

_“That much.”_

_“So much?”_

_“Too much.”_

***

Kwon Jiyong doesn’t know what’s more terrifying, the fact that he is _seeing_ Lee Seungri standing in his front porch or the realization that he just drank a bottle of wine and this could be just part of his imagination that woud only leave him feel even more miserable later.

“You look like you need coffee,” Seungri looks like he’s just jumped out from one of the worst fashion magazine Jiyong keeps on his coffee table. When Jiyong doesn’t say anything, he takes a step back. “Well –”

Jiyong’s hand shot so fast to grab his that it startles them both. “Why the _fuck_ are you here?”

Seungri had rehearsed this so many times in his head. “I told you, you’re going to hate me.”

“I do,” Jiyong says, his voice stern. “Answer me, Seungri.”

“Because I am going to ruin us both.”

Jiyong sneers. “Are you playing with me?”

“I’m not,” Seungri looks down at hand, still in Jiyong’s hold like a personal handcuff. When Jiyong realizes where Seungri’s gaze lays, he uncurls his fingers from around Seungri’s wrist. “I don’t know how to save you.”

Jiyong waits for more but Seungri falls into silence. “What’s going on, Seungri?”

“I love you,” somewhere in between syllables a lone tear falls. “And I don’t know how to pretend that I don’t anymore.”

 Jiyong doesn’t know how to react. He can’t offer anything to say either besides a silent _I love you too_.

***

If I hold you tight, will you stay by my side?

If I let you go, can you promise me there won’t be another hello?

***

“I was listening to you,” Jiyong sighs, unable to bear anymore pregnant pause. Seungri is inside but Jiyong isn’t sure if they should cross the invisible border. “The day I got into that accident.”

Seungri’s head spun so face Jiyong wonders if he’s going to snap his neck. “What?”

“Radio,” Jiyong shrugs. “It’s not… –forget it.”

“You don’t hear radio,” Seungri frowns.

“Must be fate.”

Seungri shakes his head. “Must be bad luck.”

“Stop,” Jiyong squeezes his hand. “What happened? Are you goint to tell me?”

“Of course,” Seungri finds his strength to smile. “Like I said, I’m going to ruin everything.”

“What is _everything_?”

“You,” when he says that, he is looking at Jiyong. “I’m going to come back here.”

It takes sometime to digest the sentence until Jiyong finds out the meaning. “No longer staying in Japan?”

“Yeah, that,” Seungri averts his gaze and years living with him, being in love with him had trained Jiyong’s body to react faster than his brain.

“I’m sorry I ignored your calls,” there are a lot of things he wants to say but if Seungri is going to be nearer from now on, even if that means digging deeper into the hole in his heart, Jiyong thinks he better start with apologize. Seungri’s cheeks are warm against his palms. “I miss you a lot, Seungri.”

“I miss you too.”

“I was afraid,” Jiyong amends. “That I’d ruin everything if I…if we…”

“That,” Seungri whispers. “…is exactly what I’m going to do.”

Outside, a little too early, signs of Spring had begun.

***

_“Count to three.”_

_“So childish. Then what?”_

_“Then make a wish!”_

_“Seriously?”_

_“Just do it!”_

_“Ugh, fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.”_

_“Are you done?”_

_“Yes. Now what?”_

_“Now open your eyes.”_

_“…I don’t see anything.”_

_“Here’s your cake? And the candles?”_

_“My wish, where is it?”_

_“Well, duh, it takes time to come true.”_

***

He’s been playing with words for his whole life, he’s been living out of it. Sometimes it’s tangled with one another and the other time, verses aren’t about himself. But surely he never felt so confused about how syllabels seemed like it came out from a distant or why at some point, it’s so hard to understand.

Maybe he’s stupid.

Or crazy.

“What?”

“I can’t pretend that I don’t love you,” Seungri says but inside Jiyong’s ears are explosion he can’t process the confession. “And I don’t want to pretend that I’m going to be okay with that.”

“I need to drink,” it’s a stupid thing to say and years later, Jiyong would wonder where the sentence came from but right now he really _needs_ to breathe. Seungri is speaking about dreams and he’s sitting too close, Jiyong can feel the heat of his skin caressing his arm, the way it tickles and comforts him all the same.

Seungri’s mouth parts to say something but he doesn’t.

“You’re talking as if we’re going to figure out _how_ ,” Jiyong regrets it immediately when Seungri’s hand shakes as it travels to purchase a hold on Jiyong’s flannel shirt.

“I told you,” he still carries the courage and determination although through years Jiyong had figured out that Seungri would look at him for reassurance, for approval, for things he thought only Jiyong would be able to give him. “You’re going to hate me.”

“Stop it,” Jiyong doesn’t like the thought, not even a bit. His heart aches but it’s not breaking like it always does. He still can’t promise, he has no _fucking_ idea of how to say goodbye, and it scares him that now, he doesn’t have to.

That Seungri is going to give him everything he wants.

“I love you,” Seungri tells him. It’s something between a choke and a sob, Jiyong wants to know if Seungri too, feels like the air is never enough when it’s just the two of them. “I want to love you. Now. Not later, not when I know how, not when we figure out how, not –”

“Why?” It’s so bizarre Jiyong doesn’t know if there would be an answer. And he doesn’t want to find out either. Seungri is better at reasoning, Seungri is better in explaining and Seungri, is always better in convincing Jiyong that tomorrow would come.

“Because –”

So before Seungri has a chance to speak, Jiyong dives closer and presses his lips against Seungri’s, swallowing the words frozen on his tongue hungrily until there’s nothing but love dangling like a comma.

Seungri, like always, lets him in.

_Five years_ , Jiyong ponders aloud in his head. _That’s how deep the hole inside him is._

Seungri’s blood sings beneath him and it’s more that just a sweet invitation. Jiyong wants nothing but to coax him up until there’s no way he would think that it’s not real. He wants to bury himself inside him until reality sinks in, dances like scars all around him, until there’s no more things left to excuse himself from everything he needs.

_Just because._

“I’m so scared,” Seungri’s eyes are closed but he finds no trouble to trace Jiyong’s spine through his shirt. “That you’re going hate me.”

Jiyong wants to laugh, and maybe he needs to because the heat is closing around them and he’s sure he’s going to miss another beat of his heart as it falls into patterns he can’t recognize. His brain seems to be disconnected from his head. _It’s all still so unreal._

Seungri cries out when he bites down on his neck, the kind of sound Jiyong feels _needy_ for it. “Hyung,” it’s raspy and raw, Jiyong loves it so much. “I love you.”

There are plenty reasons out there for him to be afraid but here, inside his house, there’s none. The edges of his longing are red, the color of Seungri’s eyes are ebony.

“I love you too,” Jiyong kisses him again until Seungri’s mouth is swollen and tender under his touch, until it feels like he’s touching morning dew when the skin meets his thumb. “I love you.”

***

_Jiyong’s nails were bitten to the quick. He wasn’t nervous, not really. He didn’t have priviledge to do so._

_In front of him, Lee Seunghyun sat and his lips quirked down and his shoulders were squared like he’s ready for a war._

_Somehow, their eyes met and fate was about to start._

***

Seungri tries to catch his next breath but it seems to be fleeting away from him. His lungs are so full, his waist feels like it’s burnt. Jiyong’s fingertips skate along his ribs and his eyes are the night sky.

“You can’t tell me _no_ ,” Jiyong struggles for control but it’s slipping away as Seungri issues another whimper beneath him. Sweat slides on his hair, running along his skin. When Jiyong slides his hand lower and lower, Seungri falls back against the carpet, his lips part and he never looked so much beautiful like he is now. “You can’t back away from me.”

“I won’t,” Seungri gasps on his ear and it’s just another excuse for Jiyong to _want_ him. “I can’t.”

***

_Jiyong thought that he’s ugly. The kind of ugly you couldn’t see but feel._

_But Seungri watched him as if he’d put stars on the sky._

_And everytime Seungri’s around, Jiyong believed that maybe, just maybe, the moon was just as pretty as the sun._

***

Jiyong can’t help but watching as Seungri drifting in and out of sleep. His eyes are hooded and his hand lies across Jiyong’s waist. The weight of his head fits perfectly on Jiyong’s shoulder.

“You can’t push me away.”

Jiyong smiles. “I won’t,” he runs his fingers through Seungri’s hair, strands tangled around his sense and the air is thick with Seungri’s scent. “ _I can’t_.”

“I don’t have forever,” Seungri’s voice slurred but he’s kicking his brain to speak. “I only have today.”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“Sleep, Seungri,” Jiyong kisses his forehead and Seungri’s eyes fall shut.

“I want to love you today, this moment…”

“I love you too,” Jiyong wants to say it for the rest of his life. He wants to say it aloud, so loud he can’t hear anything else. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen either. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t feel like he’s supposed to. Life is beautiful because you don’t know everything. Love is beautiful because you can’t always predict anything, and you shouldn’t.

Kwon Jiyong, doesn’t want to belong to the future, to the possibility of the afterlife, but today. He’s not going to count on tomorrow but his next breath, all the time he’s allowed to spend with Seungri.

Somewhere between the then and the now, he sees hope and he is home.

_This_ , Jiyong thinks, _is love_.

***

Because the best love story doesn’t end.

It never does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading until this last chapter <3 I hope you love it <3


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